In his book The Official Guide to the King of the Monsters, he argues that the so-called “Monster Cinematic Universe” was well ahead of the curve as both a kind of proto-MCU and a mixed-media empire that successfully evolved to suit multiple formats. Yes, it may have got its start in the movies, but it wasn’t long before the scaly characters were popping up in everything from Saturday morning cartoons to theme park attractions, edutainment programming, anime, video games, and even erotica. Don’t ask!

One side-hustle that the franchise absolutely excelled at was infiltrating the comic book market. About this, Skipper writes: “The Japanese began adapting Godzilla into black-and-white manga almost from day one.”

In the early stages of this diversification, any comics that were printed tended to be straightforward novelisations of Toho’s films, changing only minor details in the translation from screen to page. While not especially creative, these faithful retellings did still serve a useful purpose. They let fans experience Big G’s exploits from the comfort of their own living rooms.

No longer would they have to wait for a theatrical re-release in order to get their fill of Godzilla duking it out with Mothra or the Xiliens. Instead, they could vicariously experience all those thrills again while sitting on the John! 

Of course, once home video became more ubiquitous, people didn’t need to turn to manga as a substitute for the real deal anymore. Which, in turn, freed up the writers to get a little bolder and to finally start telling their own stories.

Flash forward to the modern era and Godzilla comics are just fucking weird! No concept seems to be too outlandish. No crossover too absurd. No retcon too sacrilegious.

Indeed, if you’ve picked up a book from IDW lately (the custodians of the brand as far as print is concerned), you’ll have been exposed to some of the wackiest takes on the King of the Monsters imaginable. He’s been sent to hell (both Norse and Catholic), corrupted by the Venom symbiote, fought 16th-century pirates, and been the subject of a geopolitical conspiracy that triggered the respective assassinations of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Bugsy Siegel and Abraham Lincoln. Some of those things all happened in the same batshit story!

2026 alone has been sheer lunacy for the titan, as the Monsterpiece Theatre one-shots had him gatecrashing numerous works of classic literature. You might have seen him getting caught up in a tussle between the feuding clans of Montague and Capulet, for example, or disrupting Odysseus’ long voyage back to Ithaca (in a way that curiously didn’t provoke outcry from those who are all of a sudden very invested in the authorial intentions of Homer).   

For better or worse, then, these comics have become “anything goes” territory. Some of them are delightfully silly. Some of them are just plain silly. But they’re all generally silly in one way or another.

Which brings us to The Horror of Godzilla, a new four-issue miniseries that aims to strip away all that gimmickry and go right back to basics. Taking place in 1954, it transports us to a time before kaiju were an accepted part of everyday life for the citizens of Japan and attempts to capture the shock and awe people felt when they first laid eyes on an extinction-level threat towering 250 feet above them.  

As the evocative title suggests, this is being pitched as a scarier interpretation of the material that has far more in common with Ishirō Honda’s original film than it does, say, Godzilla vs Fantastic Four. Here, the titular beastie is depicted as a dreadful force of nature that tramples all over our cities with chilling indifference — its soulless white eyes betraying a complete lack of regard, empathy, or even scorn for the meagre ants scurrying around its feet. To this version of Godzilla, we’re nothing but insignificant specks whose futile efforts to avoid being squished by elemental colossi don’t register on any level.   

The story being told around this more primal, existentially terrifying depiction of the creature is similarly intense. It’s framed by a Chernobyl-esque inquiry that has government officials trying to agree on who will be the patsy they hang out to dry when the public starts looking for someone to blame after a recent catastrophe left Tokyo in ruin.

The best candidate to be this fall guy (or, more accurately, fall gal) is Dr. Olivia Morrison, a scientist who was commissioned by an unnamed think tank to discover new renewable energy sources for the benefit of humanity. Or perhaps for the benefit of corporate interests. That much is not yet clear.

When this search led Olivia to the abyssal depths of the ocean, her team’s blundering operations inadvertently roused the slumbering Godzilla and let loose a biblical disaster upon the island nation of Japan. So, she’s as good a scapegoat as any!

With the context outlined, we then flit back and forth between the courtroom drama side of things and the guilt-ridden doctor’s account of that fateful day when man first met monster. What follows is a powerful tale about the devastating impact of tragedy, about mankind’s self-destructive race towards Armageddon, and about what it means to take accountability for one’s role in shaping seismic, history-changing events. Kind of like Oppenheimer, only this time the nuclear genie that’s been let out of the bottle comes with a set of razor-sharp teeth.    

Scribes Ethan S. Parker and Griffin Sheridan deserve a good deal of the credit for how effective Horror of Godzilla’s debut chapter has turned out, as they take their uncompromising vision seriously and resist the impulse to soften any of the nastier edges. This is, after all, a story where countless innocent civilians are wiped from existence in the blink of an eye, where our protagonist’s hands are stained with the blood of thousands, and where neither pregnant women nor children are afforded plot armour. The tantalising cliffhanger it ends on is especially dark and tees up a future instalment that promises to lean further still into pure horror.  

Backing up this pitch-black tone, there’s an adult quality to the writing that’s greatly appreciated. Treating the reader with respect, the issue starts in medias res and asks you to keep up with who’s who and what their various motivations are. And it does so without ever giving way to inelegant exposition dumps.

Parker and Sheridan likewise refuse to dumb down their weightier themes and make sure there’s ample time for the more introspective moments to breathe, at least as far as they can within the confines of a 30-page comic. Not that it’s a guarantee of maturity by any means, but there are even a couple of f-bombs organically woven into the dialogue that feel natural, as opposed to edgy for edgy’s sake. 

Godzilla comics have a propensity to over-narrate and spell out what their kaiju are doing at any given moment, and, again, the writers have nicely sidestepped that clunky trope of the genre too. Instead, if there’s no reason for any of the characters to be supplying a running commentary, they simply let the pictures do the talking.

And what pictures they are! Artist Tristan Jones’ panels are all beautifully textured, and he creates some indelible, albeit frightening, images here. He truly nails Godzilla’s sense of scale, which is so often lost in print, and pays close attention to little environmental details that make his movements feel visceral and the damage left in his wake all the more tactical. Without going into spoilers, he also does a masterful job with those harrowing final pages that are bound to sear themselves into your brain.

Jones’ work is perfectly complemented by that of colorist Josh Burcham as well. In an inspired stylistic choice (and yet another connection with Oppenheimer), the latter uses his hues to delineate between the flashforward and flashback sequences of Horror of Godzilla. The parts of the comic that take place in the hearing are all vividly tinged, while the flashbacks are depicted in stark monochrome — save for the eerie green of Godzilla’s atomic breath, which here scorches the sky and casts an apocalyptic glow on proceedings.

Letterer Tom Napolitano then completes this end-of-the-world vibe with onomatopoeic sound effects that cleverly integrate with the action and form tangible shapes that give you a deeper impression of what’s happening. Raindrops land with delicate, imperceptible “plips”, while cars roar past with elongated “vrooms” and thunderous footsteps resonate with a literal “DOOM” that spans multiple panels.

All in all, the whole project is a textbook case of a creative team being utterly in sync and aligned on what they want to achieve. This is Toho’s franchise at its most visceral, nightmarish and sensory, which is an impressive feat for a piece that is in an entirely visual medium.

Godzilla’s history in print may stretch back decades, but, if this auspicious first issue is anything to go by, then we might be on the cusp of getting his best outing to date. Bring on issue #2 and the follow-up to that excruciating cliffhanger!

Published by IDW, The Horror of Godzilla #1 is available now.

The post ‘The Horror of Godzilla’ #1 Review: IDW Returns the King of the Monsters to His Terrifying Roots appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

It just doesn’t feel like the backdrop to a serious horror game. Were it not for the fact that you deal with the fortress’s ghoulish inhabitants by either immolating them or driving wooden spikes through their hearts (instead of merely unmasking them to reveal greedy groundskeepers and implausibly theatrical jewel thieves), it’d almost feel better suited to a Mystery Inc. case. Right down to the shifting-eye portraits and those secret passageways that are concealed behind bookcases with discoloured opening mechanisms.

Yet as its title suggests, you will be roleplaying as neither meddling kids nor their dumb dog here. Instead, you’ll be stepping into the shoes of a grizzled monster slayer on a quest to vanquish some malevolent bloodsucker that has managed to get an entire region under its thrall.

When the story opens, you’re in the middle of being ferried to this undead fiend’s heretical lair. Your assignment from the Christian church (to which you are zealously devoted) appears simple on paper: infiltrate the castle; find the hidden chamber in which the evil is slumbering, hammer a stake into its chest, and liberate the innocents who have been corrupted by its foul influence.

Of course, this all turns out to be much easier said than done. For a start, the vampire’s resting place is located within an architecturally impossible room that’s not pinpointed anywhere on the map, and that isn’t accessible via conventional means. Not to mention, the rest of the stronghold is defended by a host of wailing ghosts, haunted suits of armour, and howling werewolves all dead set on keeping intruders like you from ever uncovering the whereabouts of their nefarious master.

So far, so Scooby-Doo! Where things get a little darker, however, is with the revelation that you’re not the first crusader to be sent on this particular suicide mission. On the contrary, the castle halls are littered with the mutilated corpses of your predecessors, many of whom came to doubt their calling by the end (questioning the hypocritical dogma of the clergy and wondering why their infallible God would allow them to meet such grisly fates), while others were seduced by darkness. Ruh-roh!

Whether you will undergo the same crisis of faith depends entirely upon your own spiritual fortitude and the choices you make to survive the gruelling night ahead. To divulge much more, or to reveal even your basic starting objectives, would spoil the fun of working out the game’s many mysteries for yourself.

Let’s just say it’s a tight, no-frills adventure that’s full of clever brainteasers, pleasing exploration and adrenaline-pumping action. Alas, its considerable charms are also sadly undermined by a question of authorship, intent and integrity that we’ll get around to in due course. Until then, here’s what we initially dug about Vampire Hunter: Nightrise.

The Game’s Afoot

At the outset, the title presents itself as a meat-and-potatoes first-person shooter but, as it grows increasingly puzzle-heavy and starts pushing you to make intelligent deductions about what to do and where to go next, you realise it’s just as much of a detective game.

Sure, most rooms you enter will be teeming with creatures for you to riddle full of holes in a way that evokes the frenetic gauntlets of Wolfenstein 3D. If you’ve been conditioned by that foundational boomer shooter or any of its contemporaries (which the three-person development team at Over the Moon clearly revere), then your first impulse will likely be to barrel right on ahead from one slaughtering ground to another without ever pausing for breath.

Yet that would be a critical error in this instance, as Nightrise actually demands a little more patience, asking you to calm your itchy trigger finger and linger a while longer in the aftermath of bloodbaths, so that you can meaningfully engage with the other half of the experience.

You see, all of the levels here serve dual purposes. Yes, they are deadly combat arenas in which you massacre beasties to your heart’s content, but they’re also jigsaw pieces in a much larger escape room scenario. Each and every one of them contains hidden secrets for the observant hunter to unearth and mini head-scratchers that can be solved to progress in the overarching mystery.

As mentioned up top, your goal here (beyond just “kill the head vampire”) is vaguely defined. You’ll therefore have to work out the necessary steps for reaching the final boss on your own, without the help of patronising objective markers or hand-holding NPCs that blatantly spoon-feed you all the answers. If you can find him, the transient spectre of the castle’s architect will jot down helpful notes on your map, but you’ll need to locate his various hiding spots first!

Over the Moon has likened this level design to Tunic, although we reckon Blue Prince is a far better point of comparison (on account of the first-person perspective, the general user interface and the mind-bending floor plan). As in that indie darling, you’ll soon come to appreciate just how dense and interlocking the setting is here, and how there’s way more to it than first meets the eye.

Indeed, Nightrise is absolutely chock-full of juicy discoveries and eureka moments, none of which we’ll give away in this review. Suffice it to say, you’ll be richly rewarded for paying attention to your surroundings and retaining key information. Clues can take the form of anything from written documents to neat visual signifiers or telegraphed interactions that might just inspire you to return to earlier areas (now forearmed with greater knowledge of the structure’s inner workings). Said findings will, in turn, yield ingeniously connected shortcuts and brand-new optional content that less vigilant players could conceivably miss.

There’s immense satisfaction to be derived from mastering the complex puzzle-box that is the castle itself, and we’d encourage you to savour that joyous investigative experience (not much of an ask, given the game’s lean 3-hour runtime). If you’re anything like us, you’ll get a real endorphin rush from finally grasping the full utility of all the different coloured flames in the archives, as well as from intuiting what the bells in the rafters are used for and figuring out how to successfully navigate the labyrinthine dungeons.

A Castle Built for Curiosity

Speaking of which, there’s a solid variety to the locations in Vampire Hunter: Nightrise. The castle is divided into four principal wings, each of which has its own unique sub-areas, puzzle types, mechanical gimmicks, and enemy breeds.

The latter consideration is especially appreciated, as it gives the world a coherent internal logic. Different creatures will congregate in different parts of the building (for story or lore reasons), and the developers never break immersion by recycling them elsewhere. Case in point, the cathedral is lorded over by blasphemous priests, who hurl destructive magicks your way, while the incorporeal wraiths of dark sorcerers pore over eldritch tomes in the library, and the subterranean prison cells are used as a holding pen for the reanimated corpses of your fallen comrades.

The ideal combat tactics will, of course, vary from foe to foe. Yet no matter what you’re fighting, your primary method of defence will always be the hunter’s standard-issue crossbow. Fittingly launching wooden stakes, it’s a cool weapon that the developers get a ton of mileage out of.

If you strategically line up a shot, for example, you can send a spike on a trajectory through an open flame so that it then catches on fire before hitting its intended target and setting them ablaze. Meanwhile, a well-placed bolt can catapult monsters into each other, and the crossbow can be modified to fling splintering projectiles that fan out in all directions. We also loved the inspired way that the game has you replenishing ammunition by smashing decorative furniture into kindling, rather than just searching for pre-made stakes randomly lying around the place.

Faith as Gameplay

Like any good student of Van Helsing, you also carry a crucifix with you at all times. Held akimbo with the crossbow, this can be used as both a close-quarters defensive weapon and as a catalyst for conjuring miracles. That brings us nicely to the title’s other conceit: its novel approach to faith.

Not too dissimilar from magic in an RPG, this attribute determines what kind of spells you can cast in Nightrise. Depending on how steadfast your belief is, you can use it to do fun things like summon lightning that stuns enemies, give yourself a big old damage buff, or trigger devastating explosions.

To get the most out of these powers, however, you’ll need to make sure that your religious convictions don’t waver. This can be monitored by checking the gauge just below your HP bar. In essence, the fuller it is, the more you’ll be able to leverage your favour with the big man upstairs.

Where things get interesting, though, is that the faith bar will not only drain when you cast miracles but also shrink if your character starts to harbour sacrilegious doubts. This tends to happen whenever he glimpses something that shakes his faith to the core, be it a dead body or a profane artefact that contains forbidden knowledge. In that sense, the faith bar can be thought of almost as a magic and sanity meter rolled into one. You need faith to cast spells, but your faith goes down whenever you see fucked-up shit. And you’re bound to see fucked-up shit sooner or later.

To restore this vital resource, you’ll either need to pray in the heat of battle (which is time-consuming) or demonstrate your fealty to the Church by rejecting certain temptations. To elaborate, there are a few junctures in the story where you will be offered great power by some unknown force. If you accept these boons, then an extra ability will be added to your spell list, and your faith will diminish a little.

Conversely, if you resist the allure, then you’ll miss out on the new miracle, but your relationship with God will improve. It’s an interesting trade-off that gives you a bit of flexibility in how you customise your build and could incentivise repeated playthroughs (especially since there are narrative implications to your choices here).

All in all, the way Vampire Hunter: Nightrise uses faith puts a fresh spin on the classic magic system. There’s a surprising amount of depth to it that helps combat feel a bit more nuanced, and the temptation angle smartly weaves the game’s narrative themes into actual gameplay.

A Different Kind of Vampire

Between these well-balanced faith mechanics, the intricate map layout, and the thoughtful puzzles, Nightrise appears to be a release that was very intentionally designed. You get the impression that the three-person team at Over the Moon agonised over every creative decision and had a very specific vision that they wanted to bring to life.

Regrettably, the integrity of all that is called into question by the needless use of a particular technology. And you don’t need to have the mystery-solving prowess of Scooby and the gang to know which one!

Let’s not beat around the bush anymore. Vampire Hunter: Nightrise‘s disappointing use of artificial intelligence is a blemish that, appropriately enough for a game that explores crises of faith, riddled us with doubt. Knowing that generative A.I. tools were used to some extent in the development process left us wondering how much of what we previously enjoyed was artistically deliberate or even original.

According to Over the Moon, the technology only did heavy lifting when it came to the musical score (through prompts on Suno) and localisation efforts. Elsewhere, the story, the general structure, and design choices were purportedly authored by real, flesh-and-blood creatives.

On the Steam store page, they go on to claim that A.I. is “not a replacement for the conscious attention of a skilled artist”, which is an encouraging sign. Yet this philosophy is compromised when they also admit to having exploited generative tools in order to establish starting points for various pieces of in-game artwork and character meshes. These assets supposedly went through extensive manual modelling, texturing, rigging and animation after the fact. But it still feels like they’re tainted. As a result, we can’t confidently discern what’s been done by hand here and what’s the output of the plagiarism machines.

I desperately want to believe that most of the things in this title I enjoyed were born completely of human ingenuity. And I want to take the developers at their word when they say that everything received proper care and intentional direction. Nevertheless, a pall has been cast over the whole package as far as I’m concerned. I originally loved how the brightness calibration image was a creepy portrait of a Boris Karloff lookalike. But now I’m uncertain if that was a conscious tribute to the great horror icon or if it’s just ripped from some other source that the A.I. was trained on. Because it’s a parasite that feeds on everything around it. You know, kind of like a vampire!

I really detest that this is something I have to think about when reviewing releases now. I’m sympathetic to the argument that smaller devs don’t have the same time or resource allowances as major AAA studios, and that corners sometimes need to be cut. I also recognise that concepts like procedural generation and pre-bought assets have existed in the industry for decades, and so pure, unmuddied authorship was never really guaranteed. Furthermore, I expect some A.I. defenders will come out of the woodwork and argue that, if you can’t tell what’s been produced by the technology and what hasn’t, then does it truly matter?

Yet I’d maintain that, if you’ve got any passion for this medium or have ever poured your own heart and soul into a creative enterprise, it should matter. I think it matters to consumers too. That’s why Epic Games’ Tim Sweeney got so agitated recently about Steam’s mandatory A.I. disclosure policy. Because even he knows that people are put off by this crap and crave experiences that were designed by their fellow humans.

With all of that said, Vampire Hunter: Nightrise may have only used generative A.I. sparingly in its development, but letting it off the hook for that feels like a very slippery slope. Had Over the Moon avoided its use altogether, I’d probably be able to recommend this one without reservations, because the bits I hope were done by humans are genuinely great. It is tightly designed! It has got a charmingly old-school atmosphere! There are some inventive ideas!

Ironically, though, I have now become just like its doomed protagonist: questioning if my faith was entirely misplaced. It’s such a shame to have this overshadow what was otherwise a pretty fun game.

Review code provided by publisher. Vampire Hunter: Nightrise released on PC via Steam on July 14.

The post ‘Vampire Hunter: Nightrise’ Review: AI Casts a Shadow Over Gothic Shooter Fun appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

After all, one of the main conditions imposed by these games is that you’re always left to fend for yourself in a hostile environment, with barely any resources, barely any direction, and barely any lifelines to call upon, which might as well be the storefront page description for every Resident Evil released to date.

In addition to this, the titles will also have you forging shaky alliances with strangers, who are liable to desert or outright double-cross you the second that these temporary pacts cease to be advantageous; a quintessential trope of zombie movies and many other subdivisions of horror. And then there’s the high-stakes proposition that’s inherent to the genre, whereby all the valuables you retrieve out on a mission could be lost forever if you don’t manage to exfiltrate in a safe and timely manner. Again, petrifying.

Honestly, one of the most nerve-wracking experiences you can have in multiplayer gaming these days is trying to haul ass to the cargo elevator in Arc Raiders while you’ve got an inventory full of precious loot and everything’s on the line. The way your heart races as you nervously scan the horizon for threats, try to suss out the intentions of other players who could be enviously eyeing your plunder, take calculated risks, and wait on tenterhooks for your escape route to open is identical to the biological response you have when being chased by, say, a drill-wielding lunatic in The Outlast Trials. The only thing that’s different is the cause of fear and what you’re afraid to lose. That, and the fact that enemies in Arc don’t tend to have their genitals brazenly flapping around when trying to kill you (although it can never be guaranteed with some of the weirdos that populate online lobbies).

It’s therefore mindboggling that, out of all the biggest names in the extraction shooter space right now (Escape from Tarkov, Delta Force and this year’s Marathon), only Hunt: Showdown engages with horror themes directly. Even then, it’s kind of its own thing and doesn’t quite tick all of the genre’s boxes.

Enter The Mound: Omen of Cthulhu. The latest from Chilean developers ACE Team, this new contender brings a bounty of fresh ideas to the table, but its most significant innovation to the extraction shooter formula is how it embraces horror with open arms. And it’s a match made in heaven. Or in the depths of some eldritch, unfathomable nightmare, depending on how you look at it.

Fortune and Glory

As you may be able to figure out from the subtle clues in its title, The Mound: Omen of Cthulhu is firmly situated in the H. P. Lovecraft universe. The game’s press notes adorably claim that this puts it in the company of about a hundred other releases that have similarly embedded themselves in the cult author’s public domain oeuvre. Which actually seems like a conservative estimate, unless they meant to say: “a hundred other releases from this year” (see Cthulhu: The Cosmic Abyss, The Sinking City 2, Cosmic Fear and The Necromancer’s Tale).

I truly believe there’s a danger that we are fast approaching the saturation point for Lovecraftian media. The appeal of these things is supposed to lie in the horror of the unknown, yet by now we’re as acquainted with Deep Ones, Shoggoths and Yith as we are with our 9-to-5 work colleagues. And they provoke a comparable feeling of ambivalent disdain. I, for one, cover Lovecraft adaptations so often that my word processor has gone from not recognising the spelling of Cthulhu to predictively writing out The Great Dreamer’s terrible name whenever my finger so much as glides over the “C” key.

At least ACE Team are taking inspiration from lesser-known and lesser-mined source material here. Loosely based on the novella of the same name (or at least the story within that story), The Mound transports you not to the well-trodden mountains of madness, the overdone sunken city of R’lyeh or the familiar streets of Arkham, but instead to the untamed wilds of the Americas.

Taking place during the so-called “Age of Discovery”, it casts you in the role of a Spanish conquistador embarking on a perilous voyage across the New World. Following the trail of an ill-fated expedition that went missing somewhere south of the equator, you’re on the search for riches that are beyond human imagining. Of course, this being the Cthulhu mythos, the only things beyond human imagining that you’re bound to find here are ancient sinister forces and ghastly abominations unfit for mortal gaze.

You see, this lost continent you’re charting is not an especially hospitable one. The further inland you go, the less inclined anyone with the vaguest of self-preservation instincts would be to hang around. Impossibly thick canopy blots out the sun, chattering whispers emanate from the treeline, the desecrated corpses of your fallen brethren litter the ground, and the forest itself starts to play tricks on your mind. Not to mention, the local fauna just keeps getting bigger and meaner.

Alas, the myriad treasures of these accursed lands are too tantalizing to abandon, and so it’s up to a few courageous (or perhaps certifiable) explorers to brave this tropical hell and bring back some booty. For God, for gold, and for Spain.

Into the Heart of Darkness

In gameplay terms, this maps rather neatly onto the standard extraction shooter format. Every day starts with you waking aboard your galleon, the Tempestad, from which you can interact with members of the crew — both NPCs and co-op partners — customise certain aspects of your loadout, trade resources, and eventually pick your next quest.

When it comes to the latter, you’ll sign a contract stipulating the required objectives you agree to complete, as well as the starting gear that you’ll get to take with you. Conditions for payment can range from you needing to bring in a certain quota of goods to rescuing survivors from other ships or acquiring logbooks that will help you edge closer to the overarching goal of finding that previous expedition.

Once you’ve signed on the dotted line, you’ll then choose a place to make landfall (effectively your map for the coming session) and head out on a skiff with your party of firebrand comrades. Upon arrival, you’ll be met with gorgeously rendered, handcrafted environments that are ripe for exploration and, with minimal direction, are then left to your own devices as you strive to meet the terms of your selected contract. Nine times out of ten, this means scavenging for loot and bringing it back to the Tempestad without falling victim to the unutterable terrors that lurk in the underbrush.

Speaking of which, threats here can take on both a physical and metaphysical form. There’s certainly no shortage of ferocious beasties that call the region home, including giant insects, betentacled freaks, strange quadrupeds that look like panthers from an alien world, and congealed knots of maggots that have lumped together into some kind of perverse mockery of human anatomy. However, the much more insidious scourge is the one that inexorably worms its way into your head, causing you to hallucinate startling images, luring you into traps with false promises of fortune, and even leaving you unable to discern friend from foe. So, lush vistas aside, it’s not really a place where you’ll want to take up a timeshare!

The equipment you’re loaned by the quartermaster can help to keep the evil at bay for a time (there are muskets, crossbows, spears, rapier swords, crucifixes, and darkness-expelling lanterns). Still, there’s only so long you can push your luck and hope to endure the innumerable attacks before you just have to call it quits.

It’s then that the agonising retreat to the rowboat begins, as you try to lug your haul back to the starting point, usually with depleted survival resources. Should you successfully navigate the labyrinthine jungle and its many perils in one piece, then you’ll be escorted to your galleon and taken to the captain’s quarters, whereupon the client will assess whether you’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain or not.

New World, New Ideas

When divorced from its theming, the basic mission structure of Omen of Cthulhu isn’t too dissimilar from what we’re used to with Arc Raiders or Escape from Tarkov. Yet the execution is impressive, particularly for such a small development studio, and there are clever touches throughout to make the whole thing feel fresh and unique.

Almost every mechanic is filtered through the prism of either cosmic horror or seventeenth-century monasticism, leading to some ingenious twists on well-worn conventions. Case in point, you’re accompanied on expeditions by a rickety ox-drawn cart that acts as both a mobile storage unit and a lifesaving waypoint (its monk driver can blow a horn to summon scattered party members back to the same location, while a pierced bag of grain at its rear leaves behind a breadcrumb-like trail that ensures you never get too lost).

Another neat period detail is how the flintlock pistol is prone to malfunctioning in the rain, making it a bit of a gamble to pack said firearm when there’s a perfectly dependable bow & arrow available. The consequences of bad weather can be abated, however, by yet another one of ACE Team’s nifty ideas. Before heading out into the bush, you have an opportunity to dedicate your expedition to one of several patron saints, each of whom will grant different boons and blessings, including one who, yes, can quell that pesky precipitation. It’s a cool bit of flavouring that adds an extra layer of strategy to proceedings, as well as replay value for when the public matchmaking inevitably has you going through certain levels again and again.

Taking a cue from Eternal Darkness: Sanity’s Requiem, the game also toys with your perception in some smartly meta ways. For instance, if your character ends up succumbing to madness, then you may start seeing flies buzzing around your periphery and landing on the screen — in a way that I’m ashamed to admit had me batting at my laptop display on at least two occasions — while your auditory senses can be simultaneously deceived by misleading directional sounds piped in through the headset. Should you really lose your grip on what’s real and what’s not, then it can even escalate to the point where you begin confusing teammates for hostiles (and vice versa) thanks to fiendish hallucinations.

That last part makes for an inventive twist on the every-man-for-himself dynamic at the heart of a typical extraction shooter. You’re always encouraged to maintain a healthy level of distrust in other players when competing in these things. Normally, that’s because they have sufficient motivation to gun you down and rob your stuff, but here you’re all supposed to be on the same side, and everyone’s contributions go in the exact same pot. So, there’s no rational reason to turn on each other.

However, if you can’t be 100% sure what your teammates think is happening in their immediate vicinity, or if they even are your teammates to begin with, then it creates a scenario reminiscent of John Carpenter’s The Thing. The reassuring logic of “safety in numbers” goes entirely out the window and you’ll not want to let anybody out of your sight for too long, lest they come back crazed or, worse, are supplanted by some monstrous imposter intent on sabotaging your crusade.

Misery Loves Company

On that note, multiplayer — and to a certain extent, multiplayer with strangers — really is the best way to experience The Mound.

At its core, it is built around the unreplicable interplay between reactive, hard-to-predict meatbags. Not only does this mean that there’s palpable tension whenever suspicions do arise amongst the group, and everyone’s furtively clutching to their weapons, but it’s equally electric when you manage to strike up an effective rapport with someone and just blast through contract after contract.

If the team doesn’t click, then the run can turn into a brutal war of attrition that affords next to no breathing room, as the RNG throws dozens upon dozens of enemy mobs at you, inflicts devastating bleed damage that drains your HP at an alarming rate, and relentlessly bombards you with compounding sanity effects. When a never-ending string of calamities befalls you like this, and you’ve got no one in your corner, you start to feel like the beleaguered protagonist of Beau Is Afraid during that movie’s absurd opening sequence.

Conversely, if you’re paired up with someone who actually communicates, shares the gear fairly, pulls their weight in finding treasures, and covers you when you’ve got your hands full, you can really turn the tables on the forces of darkness here. And it’s immensely satisfying to pull off, because it’s almost like you’re standing up to a school bully who’s overdue some comeuppance.

During our review stint, we played a couple of matches with someone who didn’t have a mic and, though we never exchanged so much as a whisper, we instinctively knew how to support one another. Before long, we settled into a beautiful, wordless routine whereby one of us would throw an axe to stun a zombie and the other would sneak up behind it for a close-quarters finisher. We don’t know their name. We never heard their voice. And yet we will forever cherish our time together as a supremely efficient monster-slaying duo.

By comparison, solo play is less invigorating. It’s technically possible, as a single bot will stand in for human players if you elect to go it alone. However, they’re a very poor substitution, and you can only rely on them so far. At best, they’ll dispatch a couple of creatures and sporadically lob junk into the ox cart.

Yet as you discover new areas deeper in the jungle, where the odds are increasingly stacked against you, it becomes a frankly unsustainable way of playing. The A.I. doesn’t show any urgency when you need to get somewhere quick, it often fails to collect items (including health and ammo that it desperately needs), there’s a bizarre tendency for it to go wandering off so that it can aimlessly hack away at foliage for a bit, and it’s of no use whatsoever when you’re in that climactic mad dash to the extraction point.

We similarly found ourselves getting a little peeved at the ox cart driver NPC as well, with their annoying habit of blocking the path to key areas and absentmindedly wedging us into positions from which we were unable to break free. Again, if you’re playing with another person, there’s a chance they could potentially coax the A.I. out of these tricky spots and liberate you from the impasse. Otherwise, it’s tantamount to a game over.

Better Run Through the Jungle

In all fairness, you’re not going to have a flat-out bad time if you end up soloing in Omen of Cthulhu. Just a more punishing, drawn-out one.

Indeed, whether you’re a solitary wolf, part of a tight-knit friendship group, or a social butterfly eager to spread their wings, there’ll be thrills aplenty here. That’s because ACE Team absolutely nail the fundamentals of both genres they’re combining.

For a start, the game is a real looker, with richly detailed environments, convincingly humid weather effects and pleasingly crunchy gore (obliterating a zombie’s skull into a glorious shower of pulp and bone never loses its novelty). Furthermore, the levels are as thoughtfully designed as in any good horror game — with the developers wisely abstaining from the use of procedural generation — while the first-person combat is slick and responsive, the stealth deliberate and nail-biting, and the island atmosphere so vivid you’ll find yourself perspiring within minutes.

It all comes together for a superlative offering that’s perhaps the most pulse-pounding extraction shooter we’ve played to date. Making a beeline for the rowboat as horrendous shrieks echo through the rainforest, and stygian darkness conceals how many monstrosities are on your tail, is one of the scariest experiences we’ve had all year. When you’re out of ammo, out of health, out of friends, and clinging to cargo that only slows your gait, there’s a tangible sense of panic that very few horror titles can elicit. I don’t remember the last time a game had me breaking into a sweat, but whenever I had everything to lose and something terrible breathing down my neck here, I got legitimately anxious.

Of course, if you do manage to exfiltrate, then it’s a triumphant moment deserving of an air punch. Or so one might assume. However, The Mound has one last devious mind game up its sleeve before you can confidently kick your feet up and take pride in a job well done. A post-match debrief in the captain’s quarters will put you at the mercy of a snivelling appraiser, who looks over your bounty piece by piece and tallies up its cumulative worth to see if you’ve been able to meet the agreed quota. It’s a final bit of jeopardy at the finish line that makes a prospective victory all the sweeter, and a prospective defeat all the bitterer.

Rest assured, though, that your efforts aren’t necessarily in vain if you don’t hit the requisite value target. Sure, you forgo the XP payment (which earns character upgrades like increased inventory space), but there are still other ways to make lasting progress. Certain artifacts that you collect, for instance, will be permanently added to the stocks of the Tempestad merchant, while any deer carcasses you bring back from hunting will go towards improving the effectiveness of consumables. Should you happen across a logbook, then you’ll also unlock brand-new areas of the world to explore, with brand-new creatures, brand-new treasures, and brand-new opportunities.

It’s thus rare that you come away from an expedition completely empty-handed. There’s still a sense of peril when you’re out in the wilds, as death doesn’t lose its sting, but these small wins help you feel like you’re making meaningful headway and give you the encouragement to stick with it.

And we really do see ourselves sticking with The Mound for the long haul. With its clever innovations, intriguing world-building, finely tuned co-op mechanics, and exhilarating risk-reward stakes, we believe this one has got a promising shelf-life and could emerge as a serious rival to some of the biggest names in both the extraction shooter and cooperative horror genres. Even the stupid lemming bots can’t bring it down.

Review code provided by publisher. The Mound: Omen of Cthulhu releases on PC  via Steam, PlayStation 5, and the Xbox Series on July 15.

The post ‘The Mound: Omen of Cthulhu’ Review: Cosmic Horror Elevates a Thrilling Co-Op Shooter appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Alas — unlike Ryan Gosling in Project Hail Mary — when the luckless astronauts of this title arrive at the touted Goldilocks zone, they don’t end up forging life-long bromances with any of the ETs they bump into. On the contrary, their experience of first contact is decidedly more hostile, leading to a desperate fight for survival that’s equal parts Alien and The Thing.

The Dark Pictures have always flitted between different settings and themes, but this latest jump to space horror is undoubtedly their biggest pivot yet. Which raises the question: “Where can they possibly go from here?”

In the past, we’ve had a decent inkling of what’s around the corner, as each previous anthology instalment has concluded with a sneak peek teeing up the next game. Directive 8020 sort of upholds this tradition, although it takes way more effort to uncover the hidden teaser this time, and it’s not particularly revealing when you do.

All it shows is a degraded VHS tape playing on its own accord and flashing up a string of increasingly unsettling images. A startled deer. A subliminal flash of glaring eyes. A group of people hypnotically pacing around in a circle. An occult glyph is being etched onto the screen. And then, finally, a decrepit, spindly hand reaching out from a black void.

There’s not much we can glean from this preview, to be honest, other than that the next Dark Pictures entry is presumably going to have some kind of paranormal slant. So, if nothing else, it should be a good palate cleanser after all of Directive 8020’s sci-fi escapades!

The thing is, whatever form this upcoming project does take, the team at Supermassive will still have plenty of unmined ideas and juicy horror tropes left to explore. To date, they’ve flirted with slashers, torture porn, ghost stories, vampire flicks, and body horror, while also doing a weird witchcraft trials riff on that noughties road-movie Reeker (Little Hope was an odd duck).

Yet there’s so much still on the table! With that said, as The Dark Pictures heads into the promising new era of its sophomore season, now seems like the opportune moment to draw up a wishlist of which horror subgenres we’d like to see the franchise tackling next. Here are seven that we think they should prioritise!

International Horror

Back when The Dark Pictures was still in its adolescence, and sat under the publishing banner of Bandai Namco, a trilogy pack was released in Europe, bundling together the first three games in the series. This shipped with an assortment of goodies, including a nifty SteelBook case, a set of pins, and a cloth map that depicted the known world.

Dotted sporadically around the latter collectable were a handful of symbols that each corresponded to the setting of a different instalment in the anthology (as it stood at the time). A ship marooned in the Pacific denoted where our hapless vacationers got stranded in Man of Medan, while a seventeenth-century ragdoll placed in the New England territories marked the witchy happenings of Little Hope, and a crescent moon over Iraq delineated House of Ashes’ combat zone.

Although it was never made explicit, we always took this map to be a mission statement for The Dark Pictures going forward. An articulation of Supermassive’s globe-trotting aspirations for the franchise, and a sign that they hoped to one day raise their inky-black flag in each and every continent. Much like how jetsetters use those scratch maps to proudly tick off all the travel destinations they’ve been to.

Yet if this Dark Pictures atlas were to be updated now, the icons would still largely be concentrated in or around America. There’d be representation for The Devil in Me in the Chicago area, and some kind of topographical contouring that places Directive 8020 way out of the atmosphere, but nothing in Europe, the Far East, Africa, or the Antipodes.

We’d like to see the series expanding its horizons in Season 2, then, not only for the literal change of scenery, but because it would also open up tantalizing possibilities for new genre switch-ups. Just imagine an Italian giallo entry, some Aussie outback horror, or even something that boldly homages the New French Extremity (only half-serious with that last one).

J-Horror 

The likeliest and most fitting candidate, however, would have to be J-horror. As a genre, it clicks super well with the interactive movie formula, given that its protagonists are often doomed by the poor choices they make (be it to watch an evil VHS tape, to answer a sinister phone call, or to trespass in a notorious murder house) and must then figure out the precise steps they need to follow in order to avert their appointment with death. Which might as well be a standardised synopsis for every single game in The Dark Pictures Anthology!

Case in point, the ethical dilemma that our heroine is faced with at the end of Ringu — whereby they have to either accept the grim fate that’s been handed to them or otherwise pass Sadako’s curse on to a patsy — is practically gift-wrapped for this type of choose-your-own-adventure experience. If you squint next time you’re watching Hideo Nakata’s film, you can almost imagine the branching-path options loading before your very eyes. “Copy the Tape” or “Don’t Copy the Tape”.

But it’s not just J-horror’s emphasis on moral deliberation that makes it feel uniquely suited to The Dark Pictures’ whole deal. The genre also tends to have a heavy

investigatory element — as characters race against the clock to uncover the truth behind supernatural goings-on — a countdown structure that lends itself nicely to video game chapters, and some basis in real-life folklore or urban legend. All of which are prerequisites for The Dark Pictures Anthology. Like onryō spirits and poor plumbing, these two would go perfectly together.

Gothic Horror

If, on the other hand, the Surrey-based developers would prefer to make something that hits a little closer to home, they could always turn to old Blighty for inspiration. It’d make sense to honour their roots and have at least one of these games take place somewhere in the UK, what with half of the actors on their Rolodex hailing from the nation to begin with (including Will Poulter, Pip Torrens, Paul Kaye and Latasha Lynch).

And if you’re going to do something set on this quaint isle, then the most obvious route to go down would be a traditional gothic chiller, à la The Woman in Black or The Turn of the Screw. Because Christ knows England, Wales, and Scotland have got more than enough local ghost stories to pick from, whether it’s the wraiths that are said to stalk the Tower of London, the Grey Lady of Glamis Castle, or the headless Princess Gwenllian. Hell, you can barely walk ten steps down the cobbled streets of York without bumping into another purported spook site or supposedly haunted pub.

If they wanted to, Supermassive could fully embrace their heritage and commit to doing a proper period-piece set in Victorian England, switching out Little Hope’s camera-torches for kerosene lamps and Directive 8020’s spaceship decks for stately homes. It’d be a welcome change of pace after all of the series’ 21st-century scenarios, and could be an opportunity to pivot away from the blunt jump scares and gore that have defined The Dark Pictures thus far. Indeed, the developers could take the opportunity to deliver more elegant, subdued frights, adding a welcome touch of class to proceedings.

Exploitation Horror

An alternative to class, of course, is pure sleaze. The Dark Pictures have been relatively straight-laced when it comes to everything but elaborate deaths. Sure, characters are liable to meet sticky ends if you lead them astray, but the resulting kills are over-the-top and not in the least bit disturbing (unless you’re of a very sensitive disposition). Not to mention, there’s a general avoidance of taboo subject matter, upsetting themes, and even strong language. Considering that they take after infamously horny flicks like Friday the 13th, they’re remarkably chaste too.

Plunging into the grimy depths of grindhouse cinema could be a way to make the puritanical titles feel more dangerous and disreputable than they do. To be clear, we’re not advocating for some tasteless, interactive rape-revenge premise or anything, but there is scope to introduce a bit more grit into the franchise. Perhaps something along the lines of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. You know, something that’s legitimately transgressive, brutal, and grungy. It’d be a timely move as well, given that Ti West’s X trilogy recently gave the movement a new lease on life and dragged it back into the cultural zeitgeist.

If they don’t want to go whole hog here (which is understandable, given how off-putting to general audiences this sort of thing can be), they could still gesture towards the exploitation cycle. Even if it just meant emulating the DIY aesthetic of the genre’s ‘70s heyday.

Religious Horror

Another wave of horror that was inescapable in the ’60s through the ’70s, and often cross-pollinated with exploitation cinema, is religious horror.

Out of everything on our list, this is probably the most glaring omission from The Dark Pictures canon thus far, particularly when you consider how many bona fide classics belong in the conversation (see The Exorcist, The Omen, Rosemary’s Baby, etc.). If Supermassive truly aims to encompass everything that horror is and can be, then they’ll have to tackle this theme sooner or later.

There’s a lot of cool stuff they could do with it! Their dialogue system, for instance, could be used to ask probing questions about dogma and to test the faith of characters with different values and opposing world views (a la CBS’s “Evil“). Meanwhile, the patented “Turning Point” system could enable you to respond to supernatural phenomena— be it a possession, a miracle, or a demonic infestation — with either a cold scientific rationalism or an unwavering belief in the divine, presenting a really interesting fork in the road that could have meaningful consequences for the story.

Apocalyptic Horror

With its emphasis on stealth encounters and a Resident Evil-esque puzzle that had you mixing chemical compounds, Directive 8020 saw The Dark Pictures affording players greater agency than ever before. Should the development team want to continue down this road, tentatively adopting more interactive elements that go beyond mere QTEs, then they’ll need to pick a genre that gives them sufficient latitude for that.

There’s arguably no better option in this respect than apocalyptic horror. Because any Doomsday calamity will inevitably leave the world divided and fraught with danger, and those who linger on after the bombs / viral outbreak/ A.I. Armageddon/ sound-sensitive alien invasion (tick as appropriate) will need to forever keep their guard up.

Which means it will be really easy for Supermassive to integrate persistent, real-time threats into their story. It’s why zombie pandemics have always been the go-to scenario for survival horror games for decades, as they give you an inexhaustible supply of enemies that you can evade or gun down. Speaking of which, if Supermassive ever wanted to branch out into full-blown combat mechanics, either gun or melee-based, then doing the George A. Romero thing wouldn’t be a bad place to start.

Holiday Horror

It’s not commercially viable for myriad reasons (not least because no one in their right mind would release a AAA title that people would only want to play for one month out of the entire calendar year), but our dream scenario is for Supermassive to embrace holiday horror. Specifically, we’d go nuts for a Dark Pictures Christmas Special!

Whatever kind of story you choose to tell here — whether it’s a killer Santa murder spree, a Krampus-style take on Yuletide traditions, or just a secular creature feature that happens to unfold at the most wonderful time of the year — it’s bound to be a ton of fun. After all, ‘tis the season for petty dramas and long-repressed hostilities bubbling to the surface.

You see, we’ve always enjoyed fanning the flames of characters’ interpersonal conflicts in these games, and there’s no better time to stoke those tensions than during the holidays. You’ve got (often dysfunctional) families cooped up together for days on end, the stresses of present buying, awkwardness around the mistletoe, and people getting unwisely liquored up around those they secretly resent. It’s a powder keg ready to blow, and, as the puppet master manipulating the strings of everyone involved, you get the privilege of deciding if, when, and how it all blows up.

Even without rampaging psychopaths or bloodthirsty ghouls on the prowl, it’d be a hoot exploiting this messy dynamic. Especially since it has been sorely lacking from the last few Supermassive outings, which have all revolved around button-down professionals (are we the only ones yearning for the hormonal soap opera antics of Until Dawn?)

And then, when the horror does begin in earnest, the developers would have free rein to devise hundreds of ironic seasonal kills for players to discover — from fairy light strangulations to candy cane impalements and mangled bodies being jammed down chimneys. You’d be compelled to play it over and over again just to collect them all!

In short, cheesiness like this would play to the franchise’s strengths. Of course, the main reason we’re pushing for holiday horror is so that we can see the Curator wearing a fetching festive hat and sweater as he bookends the tale. That’d be the only gift we’d ever need!

Anyway, those are the subgenres we’d most like to see The Dark Pictures exploring next, but what about you? Would you be interested in an animal attack outing? A bit of folk horror? Some gateway horror? Or something else entirely?

Directive 8020, is out now on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series and Steam.

The post Seven Horror Subgenres ‘The Dark Pictures’ Should Tackle Next After ‘Directive 8020’ appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Scrawled onto the parapets that neighbour my intended port of call, like the inscription Dante saw engraved atop the gates of hell, is this ominous message.

I infer that it must have been left by some conscientious citizen who has long since departed from this accursed place. Whether in the metaphysical sense or because they just slipped aboard a passing boat. Either way, one thing’s for sure: they have departed. 

As I prepare to berth at the makeshift jetty before me, it becomes increasingly clear that the islet to which I am drawn hasn’t played host to a living soul for quite some time. Sure, there are plenty of people scattered around. But none of them are breathing… 

Taking stock of just how many corpses line the path up from the pier and towards my destination, I have to concede that the author of that foreboding missive may well have had a point. Docking here does seem like a bad plan!

Still, I have no choice but to press on, for I must reach that abandoned church which looms menacingly up ahead. As my port draws inexorably closer, I try to think of an alternative route. A diversion that will, yes, eat up valuable seconds when I have not one left to spare, but also grant me passage through the district without having to set foot on this godforsaken inlet.

It’s not just the graffiti that’s got me on edge, you see. Everything in the vicinity seems to be screaming “turn back”. Additional portents corroborate the one I first saw upon approach (with these supplementary writings warning of “Murderers” and “Lunatics”, while urging me to “Stay Away”), carrion birds orbit the church steeple, and my boat’s flywheel has begun sputtering erratically as if it is actively resisting going any further.   

In spite of these ill omens and going against every self-preservation instinct in my bones, I eventually make landfall on the small island. Hitching my dinghy to the port, I then begin the short pilgrimage towards that desecrated seat of authority, which currently stands between me and a terrible destiny.

Along the way, I glimpse signs of profane influence infecting the place of worship. The floor is teeming with Slither — that damned worm-like pestilence that has all but consumed my city — while insectoid monstrosities from some blasphemous realm wait in the wings, occasionally darting from hollowed out tombs to snatch bodies or to spring an ambush.  

It feels like an age before I reach the church door, but when I finally do, it comes as an indescribable relief. I’ve never been much of a religious man — having devoted much of my formative years to lying, cheating, and the pursuit of occult artefacts — but, right now, I can understand the appeal. Basking in the warm glow of the vestibule, shielded from the horrors of the outside world by beautiful stained glass, this feels like a true safe haven. It’s almost enough to make an old swindler convert! 

Emphasis on the word “almost”.  While the church does provide sanctuary from the Slither and the various other abominations that have infested Arkham, it’s clear that even it has not been able to fully escape perversion. Epistolary accounts scatter the aisles, telling of how the parishioners here turned away from the Lord a long time ago, in favour of a new, pernicious faith in dark things that slumber beneath the waves. They write of antediluvian beings from the abyssal depths of the ocean, of bizarre rituals committed in their name, and of some ancient trident that can bend the very elements to its will.

As I study these clues, the voice of local broadcaster, Mushroom Jack, echoes through the building. Gibbering from the comfort of his radio station, he’s relating a tale he once heard about a man who ventured into the church undercroft only to come up against a wall of flesh that was stretched tight, and a malevolent eye that seemed to instil madness in anyone who dared meet its gaze. Guess that’s where I’m heading. 

I have no idea what I’ve walked into here, or how any of these puzzle pieces fit together. But it’s my job to find out what it all means and what to do about that formless thing that’s apparently taken root in the crypt. After all, she’s depending on me.

Who Doesn’t Love a Good Underdog Story? 

Please forgive that feeble attempt at mimicking the prose of H.P. Lovecraft, but there’s a reason we took that tack when introducing our preview. It seemed like the most evocative way of conveying what The Sinking City 2 is going for.

Indeed, Frogwares’ long-awaited sequel might not feature any such narration from its protagonist. But, if it did, it would sound just like an authentic excerpt from Lovecraft’s oeuvre, complete with the same grim fatalism, the same loquacious phrasing, and the same curious blend of gothic and cosmic horror. Because this is a game that has a keen understanding of what’s made the controversial author’s output, and the shared universe it inhabits, endure in the zeitgeist for well over a century. 

The same was true of its underrated 2019 predecessor, to be fair. If you’re wondering why it’s taken so long for the developers to return to this material that they so obviously love, well, you can blame a protracted legal battle for that, as well as the devastating impact of the war in Ukraine. All things considered, it’s kind of a miracle that we’re getting any follow-up at all, never mind one that appears to be in such promising shape. Of course, an outpouring of support from the community (via Kickstarter) has helped to grease the proverbial wheels somewhat.

Nevertheless, credit where it’s due, Frogwares has made the best of a rough situation here and used the fallow period between The Sinking City and The Sinking City 2 to their advantage. You can tell they’ve thought ambitiously about how they can make their sequel a real quantum leap and not just an iterative upgrade. 

Moving from Unreal Engine 4 to Unreal Engine 5, it certainly looks like a game that’s benefited from seven years of technological advancements (especially when it comes to the enhanced lighting and water effects). But it’s crucially way more refined from a mechanical perspective, too. 

With the best will in the world, the original game was a textbook case of Eurojank. For all of the creative ideas, intriguing world-building, and experimental design choices, it was hardly the smoothest of experiences when you actually sat down to try and play it. There were glitches abound, the combat was floaty as hell, and the whole experience could generously be described as “rough around the edges”.  

Its successor, on the other hand, is significantly more polished. Part of that’s because the team has evidently learned lessons from their first go-around and wisely heeded audience feedback. To be blunt, though, the main reason that The Sinking City 2 feels so much tighter than its predecessor is that Frogwares has closely emulated a franchise that can seemingly do no wrong at present. 

Namely, they’ve had a go at making their own AA version of Resident Evil. Hey, if you’re gonna steal, you might as well steal from the best in the business!

Enter the Survival Horror

As we learned during our hands-on preview, it doesn’t take long for you to pick up on the Resi influence here. Whereas The Sinking City was an unusual hybrid of open-world detective sim and (rather clunky) monster-shooting action, this is primarily a linear survival-horror title that has a few investigative garnishes. 

You do have access to a Charlie Kelly-style conspiracy board — from which you can string together clues and draw conclusions about the case at hand — yet it’s an optional system that we barely got to utilise during our vertical slice. There are also occasional mysteries to sleuth out, but these are secondary objectives that you can choose to disregard altogether if you’re so inclined.

Superseding the detective role-playing (which has been Frogwares’ bread and butter for decades, perfected through their many Sherlock Holmes adaptations) is all that Resident Evil stuff. Specifically, modern Resident Evil.

The resemblance goes much deeper than just the over-the-shoulder perspective and the interconnected level design, and trickles down into the minutiae. For example, you’ve got: single-use keys that can unlock containers of your choosing (ala Resident Evil Requiem’s lockpicks); a crafting system that sees the same ingredients being used to produce both health items and ammunition; safe rooms that provide an analogue method of recording progress and a magical inventory box; a map that uses color-coding to indicate which rooms have been searched; and a reward-system that allocates points for the completion of challenging feats. Hell, they even lift that one scene from the Resident Evil 2 remake, wherein you have to nervously slide open refrigerated drawers in a morgue. 

To reiterate, it’s not necessarily a crazy idea to copy Resident Evil’s homework, and Frogwares does a stellar job of it when you consider their working with crowdfunding resources. Still, it’s pretty incontestable that that’s what’s happening here.

New City, New Flood, New Dangers

Where The Sinking City 2 is trying to carve out an identity of its own is less on the gameplay side of things, and more so with its enthralling world-building and narrative conceit. 

Framed as part of the public domain “Cthulhu Mythos” (which studios are getting a lot of mileage out of lately), it’s set in an alternate United States, where all of Lovecraft’s demented imaginings are an accepted part of everyday American life. The existence of Shoggoths is no secret here, Deep One sightings are commonplace, and Innsmouthers are a recognised — albeit prejudiced against — societal group.  

If you played the original game, you’ll already be acquainted with this high-concept premise. What you won’t be quite so familiar with, however, is the submerged municipality after which the sequel is titled. You see, this ain’t the same “Sinking City” we explored before. Last time around, we navigated the waterlogged ruins of Oakmont, Massachusetts, but now the action has been relocated to the waterlogged ruins of Arkham, Massachusetts. I mean, look on the bright side, at least the eldritch horrors have yet to cross any state lines!

The backstory for this fresh setting is that, at some point in the 1920s, Arkham was hit with two simultaneous, and possibly related, calamities. First, a devastating flood of unknown origins swept through the metropolis, drowning its streets, its public spaces, and its residences, until only those who had managed to stake out higher ground could even think about staying put. 

The initial emergency response made sense on paper, with authorities erecting barricades and building floodgates, yet it did little to quell the rising tides. Before long, Arkham was twisted into a kind of neo-Venice, traversable only by boat or by bridges that were cobbled together from salvaged materials. 

Things went from bad to worse when deadly vermin began to emerge from the dark waters. Known as “the Slither”, this parasitic scourge (which, funnily enough, looks just like those alien slugs from the James Gunn movie of the same name) spread at an alarming rate and sought refuge in the corpses that were starting to pile up in the streets-turned-canals. It soon became apparent to the Arkhamites that these worms were capable of more than just proliferating disease as well, with them having the ability to reanimate and then puppeteer the dead as grim marionettes. 

Between this Slither plague and the other unholy abominations that came with the flood, the restoration of Arkham was written off as a lost cause. An evacuation was promptly mandated, and the once-great city was left to rot. The handful of people who remained behind gradually succumbed to corruption themselves, and it’s now purely the domain of stark raving lunatics and mad occult worshipers.

And you, of course! 

On that note, The Sinking City 2 isn’t just thrusting you into a brand-new setting, but also into the shoes of a brand-new protagonist. Which is somewhat inevitable, given that the previous game’s lead, Charles Reed, was left to an uncertain fate that hinged entirely upon your choices 

In Reed’s stead, you’ll now be controlling raffish adventurer Calvin Rafferty. He’s basically a Nathan Drake type; only, rather than hunting for cities of gold or legendary pirate booty, he’s more interested in blasphemous artifacts like the Necronomicon and the idols of Cthulhu.

A pre-flood flashback tells us everything we need to know about Calvin. We’re introduced to him as he swaggers into a restaurant, brazenly swipes two flutes of champagne from a waiter’s tray, and then plops himself down at a table across from a young lady who’s been waiting patiently for him to swan along. Boasting to (who we soon learn is his long-term girlfriend and partner in crime), Faye, Calvin crows about how he managed to avoid getting in any trouble whilst acquiring his latest occult prize. That is just before a bunch of armed men burst into the room to prove him wrong on that count.

Anyway, as you can tell, he is a classic rogue who doesn’t take anything seriously and is motivated primarily by a thirst for thrills, fortune, and glory. Yet the stakes are raised when we subsequently flash forward to the events of the main story and find him in much gloomier circumstances. 

Here, we join a very different (and more focused) Calvin, who is now on a quest to save his beloved from the forces of darkness. You see, at some point, he and Faye recklessly performed a botched ritual together that left her in a coma, and him utterly distraught. Now, he’s searching for a way to revive her by any means necessary.

Dark Academia Courtesy of Miskatonic University

With this narrative context established, we’re dropped into our first proper gameplay sequence. Relatively early in the campaign, it has us combing the Miskatonic University library (an important place in the Lovecraftian canon) in search of a forbidden tome that will outline the steps Calvin must follow to bring Faye back to the land of the living.

We hope that we’ll be able to find the relevant piece of literature, but the odds are frankly stacked against us. After all, the place is in complete disarray; with flooding having ruined many of the volumes and the shelves having been toppled over by God only knows what. Expecting that the sanctity of the Dewey Decimal system has been preserved here seems like it might be asking a bit too much. Still, we must persevere for her sake and so begin sloshing our way through the ankle-deep waters that have seeped into every nook and cranny of the building. 

It’s here that we get our first taste of that Resident Evil flavouring that’s been so liberally sprinkled throughout The Sinking City 2. Because this library annex is, for all intents and purposes, a miniaturised Raccoon City Police Department, complete with locked doors, interconnected shortcuts, and areas that are gated off by lite puzzles. 

For an idea of the kind of thing you can expect, there’s one part where we have to reorganise bookcases using a series of cranks, so that we can create an uninterrupted path through the upper level of the building. Not only does this open up new rooms that have yet to be explored, but it also gives us a convenient way to loop around to the central staircase. 

Said shortcut then comes in quite handy when we later need to backtrack down to the ground floor, having acquired a chemical agent that can be used to dissolve the lock on a crate we passed by earlier. It’s all very tightly structured like that.

While not as intricate as one of the larger-scale environments you might find in Resi, the library is still a nifty bit of level design. Negotiating these kinds of areas is always satisfying for fans of the survival horror genre, as you get to figure out how neatly everything fits together and pick the space clean of its valuable contents (the endorphin rush of watching the map turn that pleasing blue hue when you’re done never diminishes). 

Speaking of the library’s contents, we do eventually find that arcane book we’ve been on the hunt for. Alas, it turns out that its pages are filled with indecipherable glyphs that we have no way of interpreting. 

Yet, just when it seems like we’ve hit a dead end, we bump into a scholar who offers welcome assistance. He’s a bit of an eccentric, mind you, having gouged out his own fucking eyes and inserted Slither worms into the empty sockets. We’d roundly condemn his actions, by the way, were it not for the fact that these new oculars are what enable him to read the eldritch text in our possession. And we desperately need to know what it says.

Before he performs any such translation services, though, he wants us to bring him something first and dispatches us to the Devil’s Reef Hotel, where the “guest of honor” apparently awaits collection. Whatever the hell that means!

Look, we’ve got to do what the guy asks. He’s the only one who can give us the answers we seek. 

The Lovecraftian Game is Afoot

That’s pretty much where you came in, as we then proceed to head over to that weird church with the sea god zealots and the wall of flesh stretched thin in its basement. To clarify, we’re not just here to see the sights. Rather, it’s a necessary pit-stop on our journey, because a sluice is blocking passage to the Devil’s Reef Hotel, and the parishioners of this church are the ones who used to control it. You know, back when they were alive. 

Unfortunately, raising the gate isn’t going to be as easy as just hitting a big red button. The operating mechanism has been chained up with a combination lock, and we’ve got to work out the code if we want to get out of Dodge. 

Which brings us to The Sinking City 2’s detective gameplay. The original title was quite involved when it came to these mechanics, with cases that unfolded across a sprawling open world. Among other things, you needed to question NPCs, reconstruct the events of crime scenes in chronological order, and visit the city hall to cross-reference archival data. 

By comparison, investigations in the linear sequel are significantly pared back or, dare we say it, dumbed down. Relevant clues are localised to the immediate vicinity of the puzzle (in this case, the church and its grounds) and most of them appear to take the form of written notes. You can lump findings together in a mind palace to better organise your thoughts. Yet, other than that, it’s a surprisingly straightforward approach for a developer who built their entire brand on Sherlock Holmes mysteries. 

Cracking the gate conundrum doesn’t take much lateral thinking, anyway. Although it is admittedly possible that the riddles will get more sophisticated as the game goes on. You never know, maybe the developers just wanted to show us a quick and easy one for the purposes of our demo slice. 

Reassuringly, there is a more complex puzzle that you can choose to solve in the church if you want to 100% everything. We won’t spoil the specifics, but it involves a starfish key, a stone trident, a rotating monolith, a codex of symbols, and a ceremonial dagger. 

To reiterate, you don’t have to tackle this extra challenge. However, doing so will unlock additional context that’s well worth seeing. In fact, based on our limited experience so far, we’d recommend engaging with The Sinking City 2’s optional brainteasers whenever you can. They grant access to cool secret areas like this, can uncover fascinating lore, will bring you face-to-face with new horrors (remember that eyeball in the crypt?), and might even yield tangible gameplay rewards.

Fill ‘Em With Lead and Upgraded Combat

Another incentive for solving all of the puzzles is that — again, like in some modern Resident Evil titles — you might happen upon an attachment for your favourite weapon. When we opened that aforementioned crate in the library, for example, we were rewarded with a compensator that could be affixed to our handgun to reduce its recoil and improve its accuracy. 

Yet apart from a few Slither-possessed corpses and a handful of spindly insectoids (picture a cross between Xenomorph facehuggers and the demodogs from “Stranger Things”), there wasn’t actually a whole lot for us to shoot at in the first chunk of our preview. To get a better sense of the combat, we had to skip ahead to a more action-packed chapter.

Taking place much further along in the story, and further along into the ritual to save Faye, this portion trapped us in a deserted hospital where all manner of strange procedures were being performed on the patients. It’s a bigger environment than either the library or the church, roughly comparable in size to Brookhaven from Silent Hill 2. There’s a tantalising number of locked doors and a gnarly puzzle that requires us to use surgically removed faces in order to bypass anachronistic biometric technology.

We only get to skim the surface of that stuff, however, as our exploration is cut short after about 30 minutes. That’s okay, though, because this part of the demo is really just an excuse to test out The Sinking City 2’s new and (vastly) improved combat. 

As we said before, the original game was bursting with charm and creativity, but it didn’t nail everything that it set out to achieve. Enemy encounters, in particular, were awkward, stilted, unresponsive, and frustrating. They were something you tolerated, so that you get to the next stretch of detective work (like eating your vegetables prior to dessert).

The upgrade that has occurred in the sequel is undeniable, and combat is now a legitimately enjoyable proposition. Creatures no longer soak up damage without visibly registering the impact of a shot, and will react appropriately depending on where you’ve hit them. Meanwhile, each weapon has a weighty kick to it, whether it’s the forceful blast of the shotgun or the jerky rat-a-tat-tat-tat of a Tommy gun.

It all just feels way more gratifying. At one point, there’s a scripted set-piece wherein waves of Slither-zombies start swarming in through the doors and smashing down windows, before eventually tackling us over a ledge amidst showers of falling debris, and it’s a thousand times more cinematic than anything we got in the original game. 

It’s not just a question of presentation, though. There’s a far greater emphasis on battle tactics as well. On that note, Calvin plays very similarly to Leon Kennedy (that’s rookie RE2 Leon, not the roundhouse-kicking super-agent of RE4 and Requiem), which means you’ve got to think strategically about where you position yourself in the room and what the most economical way of bringing down a given threat is. Maybe you’ll take opportunistic potshots at a distance to whittle down the enemy hordes, or perhaps you’ll try to lure them all into a corridor to blast them all away with a well-judged shotgun blast.

You’ll need to adapt for each opponent too, as they all have their own idiosyncratic movement styles, different behavioural patterns, and unique attacks. Those little facehugger things, for instance, will skuttle underneath furniture and into hidden crevices to make you waste precious bullets, while spitter-type mutants will bombard you from afar with projectile acid. Even the garden-variety zombies have a little twist here, courtesy of their pulsating weak spots that shift around from limb to limb whenever you try to get a bead on them. 

In short, the combat is a dramatic improvement over what came before. Our only reservation, at this moment in time, is that this slickness might have come at a cost of Frogwares’ signature detective mechanics, which seemed a tad underutilised in our brief time with the game. 

Granted, there’s only so much you can glean from a 90-minute demo, but we just hope that there will be more meaty puzzles and investigations to balance out the gunfights. After all, that’s what gave the first one its personality.   

Nevertheless, this remains an encouraging first impression of The Sinking City 2, and we can’t wait to wade into the murky waterways of Arkham when it releases in the Summer. After everything these developers have been through, we’re rooting for them to pull it off. 

The Sinking City 2 is currently in development for release later this summer on the PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, and PC via Steam and the Epic Games Store.

The post Lovecraftian Horrors Await You in ‘The Sinking City 2’ [Preview] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

By the time it reached the end of its ten-episode run, the Apple TV+ show’s sophomore season kind of delivered on those promises. But you had to sit through a frankly unreasonable amount of screentime dedicated to people standing around in control rooms, arguing about the ethics of bigamy, and explaining the mechanics of time travel before you could enjoy the overdue creature-feature smackdown.

The finale did set the stage for a potentially breezier third season, however, with the main cast members finally reuniting (after a dizzying number of betrayals and cross-purposed plans) and getting cozy in a new basement office. From which they are primed for some fun Mulder and Scully-ing in the future!

There are a couple of absentees here, though. Most notably, Kentaro Randa (Ren Watabe) and Isabel Simmons (Amber Midthunder), who are still fully committed to their harebrained scheme of opening a portal to Axis Mundi so that they can exploit its unique temporal properties. Or something like that. It’s not entirely clear.

Anyway, the last ten minutes of the episode see Kurt Russell’s Colonel Leland Lafayette Shaw III hot on the trail of Kentaro and Isabel, presumably intent on putting a stop to this nonsense. His search leads him to an unspecified rainforest in Southeast Asia, where he meets up with some old acquaintances who (for a price) are willing to point him in the right direction of his quarry.

Yet these guides will only take him so far into the jungle and refuse to cross a seemingly arbitrary border. When Shaw asks what has the men spooked, one of them reveals that his arms are covered in severe burns and that something lurking deeper in the trees is responsible. Something that is very much alive.

With his companions too afraid to continue, Lee presses on alone and eventually lays eyes on this pyromaniac scourge that has everybody so worked up. Nesting atop an active volcano, he clocks the unmistakable silhouette of ancient Godzilla foe Rodan and vows: “I’ll see you soon.” Cut to credits!

If you’re a kaiju aficionado, it’s a very tantalizing set-up for what the third season of Monarch could have in store (that is, assuming Rodan gets more focus in this teased arc than Kong did in his).

To get you up to speed, we’ve done a thorough deep dive on the character’s cinematic lineage, covering everything from his origins in the Japanese Toho films, right through to his previous appearance in the Legendary MonsterVerse. In short, here is the rundown on Rodan.

Rodan: An OG Titan

In his coffee table book, Godzilla: The Official Guide to the King of the Monsters, Graham Skipper writes: “Decades before Marvel would concoct [their] cinematic universe, Toho was making their own MCU. A Monster Cinematic Universe.”

The Japanese studio was certainly ahead of the curve when it came to doing synergistic crossovers on the big screen, beating MCU’s Kevin Feige and co. to the punch by over 60 years. The gliding reptile Varan, the horned quadruped Baragon, and the benevolent lepidoptera Mothra (alongside her diminutive fairy emissaries) all had standalone films to begin with, but it wasn’t long before they were alternately forging alliances and/or kicking the crap out of each other in supersized mashups like Destroy All Monsters.

If we regard the latter flick as the Avengers: Endgame of Toho’s MCU, then 1954’s Godzilla would have to be its Iron Man. After all, much like Shellhead’s Hollywood debut, this Ishirō Honda classic established a winning formula for everything that followed, set up the most enduring character in its respective universe, and is still considered one of the best entries in the storied saga from which it hails.  

Yet while he isn’t the progenitor of this kaiju dynasty, we mustn’t forget the vital part that Rodan also played in getting the shared universe off the ground. Pun not intended! Although Anguirus may have been the King of the Monsters’ first adversary in his own weight class (see 1955’s Godzilla Raids Again), Rodan was the first to actually head up a feature film.

Then the poor guy never got another starring role for the rest of his city-levelling career! Which kind of makes him the Incredible Hulk of this tortured MCU analogy if you think about it.

Rodan’s Big Break with His Solo Feature Debut (1956)

Anyway, what’s important is that you can single out 1956’s Rodan as the exact moment that the Godzilla series went from being a bunch of self-contained movies to a cross-fertilising mega-franchise. One with a continuity that persists beyond just those instalments in which Big G himself appears.

In terms of chronology, it’s the first non-Godzilla outing to be made part of the universe’s canon (even if that was only formalised in retrospect, when our favourite pteranodon gate-crashed Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster). Not to mention, it’s also the first one to be shot in color! So, it has real historical significance for fans.

The film’s story is maybe a little less pioneering, though. In fact, there’s a great deal of overlap between it and the original Gojira, with the biggest difference being that man’s ultimate sin against nature is not pinpointed as the dropping of the atom bomb here, but rather as an avaricious depletion of our planet’s resources.

The inciting incident occurs when a mining company — eager to strip every last ounce of ore they can from the Japanese mainland — digs too deep and inadvertently disturbs a hive of prehistoric bugs. Displeased by their rude awakening, these rhino-sized aphids, known as “Meganulons”, soon proceed to run amok in the neighbouring community, picking off blue-collar workers and cops alike.  

To cut a long story short (this Meganulon subplot accounts for roughly half the film’s runtime), local authorities manage to drive the insects back into the caverns from whence they came. And it’s here that they discover an even worse danger that’s been slumbering beneath their feet this entire time.  

You see, it transpires that the bugs were really just a food source for something much, much larger. Something that has been lying dormant under the Earth’s crust for millennia and is ready to unleash itself upon the modern world.

Our ensuing first look at Rodan illustrates the titular titan’s prodigious scale by showing it pecking away at creatures that, up until now, had been the primary threat of the movie; swallowing the colossal Meganulons whole as if they’re nought but bird feed. It’s a brilliant introduction to the kaiju and a terrifying “out of the frying pan, into the fire” crisis for our heroes. And the thing is, Rodan’s not even fully grown yet!

Once matured, the winged beast then heads to the surface to wreak havoc. Acting almost as a karmic force, Rodan repays humankind tenfold for all the damage we’ve inflicted on Mother Earth by laying waste to our greatest metropolises, making short work of our militaries, and reclaiming the skies from invasive fighter planes. It’s a glorious final act that has some of the best miniature work in the Toho library, with spectacle that feels remarkably tactile and convincing for the period.

Most of the devastation comes courtesy of the “Fire Demon’s” wind gust ability. This signature move sees it vigorously flapping its 270-meter wingspan (a palaeontologist in the movie hypothesises that the otherwise ordinary pteranodon may have reached such an unusual size due to radiation exposure) in order to create gales that flip tanks, derail trains, uproot buildings, and even topple skyscrapers. In addition to this, it can also fly at supersonic speeds, sending out concussive shockwaves in the process that obliterate structures and toss people around like ragdolls.

When a second Rodan emerges out of the blue and — together with its mate — reduces the city of Fukuoka to rubble, the Japanese authorities decide that enough is enough. Taking drastic action, they fire everything they’ve got at the base of a nearby volcano, in which the two monsters have nested. The hope is that this excessive bombardment will bury the abominations alive, but there are also concerns from the scientific community that it might have the unintended effect of triggering an eruption. Still, desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.

Alas, the government’s plan is a success insofar as both Rodans are eventually defeated. Spewing molten rock, clip one of the creature’s wings and bring it crashing to the ground, while the other — unwilling to go on living without its partner — divebombs into the lava stream so that they can welcome death together.  

Kaijus Get Unserious in Silly Showa Sequels (1964 -1975)

As you can tell, it’s hardly a triumphant resolution. Sure, the monsters’ reign of terror is brought to an end, yet their demise is rendered tragic, and it comes at the cost of further desecrating the planet. In that respect, it heavily echoes the climax of Godzilla, in which the oxygen destroyer weapon helps humanity to tackle its immediate kaiju problem but extracts a terrible price in exchange: scarring the ocean, killing its creator, and leaving everyone reckoning with the dire consequences.

Generally speaking, Rodan is much closer in spirit to that original Godzilla than it is to the campier adventures that followed in the rest of the Showa era (spanning 1954 to 1975). It’s decidedly sober in tone, there’s a distinct focus on collateral damage, bloody injury detail is shown up close, and there is a surprising number of on-screen fatalities.

This serious portrayal of the character wouldn’t last long, however. Whereas Godzilla had a gradual arc over the years that saw him softening from a traumatic metaphor for nuclear annihilation to a victory-dancing goofball — who shakes hands with friendly robots and performs physics-defying glide kicks — Rodan basically had to make that unlikely transition in the space of a single film.

By the time we next see him in Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964), he’s attending comical “monster summits” and participating in what can only be described as kaiju tennis (hitting a boulder back and forth in a protracted rally with Godzilla, all while an exasperated Mothra watches on). Even his visual design has been ameliorated to make him palatable to a younger audience, with him now boasting larger eyes, smoothed out features, and less angular proportions.

To be fair, the Rodan we see in Ghidorah is presumably meant to be an offspring of the original behemoth, and so that could account for the drastic changes in temperament and the more anthropomorphised personality. Still, it’s never made 100% clear if that’s supposed to be the case, or if the first one somehow survived being roasted alive back in ‘56.

Putting aside that question of provenance, this is definitely a more kid-friendly version of Rodan. While not an overt good guy, he is effectively on the side of humanity in Ghidorah, teaming up with Godzilla and Mothra to defend his turf from the eponymous alien. This “ambivalent status” (as described by author Ed Godziszewski) is something that the character would retain for most of his future escapades, as he regularly puts aside his beef with Godzilla to defend the planet from extraterrestrial nemeses.

Such is the case with 1965’s Invasion of Astro-Monster, which sees the holy trinity of Godzilla, Mothra, and Rodan banding together once more for a rematch against the humiliated Ghidorah. Rodan may be further along in his journey to the light side here, but he does at least get to reassume an antagonistic role for a brief stretch of the movie, when the villainous Xiliens use alien mind control to bend all of Earth’s monsters to their will.

Weirdly, that becomes something of a trend for the pteranodon going forward, as he is once again robbed of his agency in the iconic 1968 crossover extravaganza Destroy All Monsters. This time it’s not the Xiliens who are puppeteering him, but rather the amusingly attired Kilaaks. Intent on subjugating mankind, these nefarious spacemen in form-fitting onesies sic Rodan on Moscow, while simultaneously exploiting other kaiju to cause widespread chaos around the globe. Yet when a crew of human astronauts sabotages their base, the aliens lose control of all the earthling creatures who, you guessed it, then proceed to gang up on that pesky outsider King Ghidorah (after a while, it starts to feel like bullying).

Believe it or not, Destroy All Monsters was pitched as the grand finale of Toho’s MCU, which was experiencing diminishing box office returns at the time. Of course, as we now know, there was still some juice left in the tank, and the franchise would continue on for a little while longer.

Nevertheless, the film did mark Rodan’s valedictory appearance in the Showa era, with him last seen chilling out on the Monsterland archipelago, living in harmony with the rest of his kind. Technically, he did have a few guest spots in other Toho projects throughout the 1970s. However, these cameos were all cobbled together from archival footage that the studio liberally recycled in order to trick viewers into thinking they were getting new content (see Terror of Mechagodzilla for an egregious example of this).

Rodan Gets a Fiery Upgrade During the Heisei Era (1993)

It’d be a quarter of a century before Rodan returned to the silver screen in any meaningful capacity.

When the Showa era fizzled out in the mid ‘70s, Godzilla took a bit of a hiatus before undergoing what we’d now dub a “creative reset”. Ushering in the so-called Heisei series, 1984’s Return of Godzilla was an attempt to breathe fresh life into the property after a string of increasingly campy sequels.

Wiping the slate clean, it is positioned as a direct follow-up to the 1954 Gojira that disregards all other films in the continuity and sets us off on a brand-new timeline (similar to what David Gordon Green did with his Halloween trilogy). The ambitions for this reboot were to dial down the outlandish sci-fi elements, restore Godzilla’s prior menace and dignity, and go back to the more serious, politically charged tone of the Ishirō Honda flick that started it all.

To accomplish this, the Hiroshima metaphors were updated to reflect more contemporary anxieties about the Cold War (which was reheating under the Reagan administration). Meanwhile, the God of Destruction was made to be a legitimate threat again, and there was a sense of apocalyptic dread looming large over everything.

Aiming to create as much distance as possible between this edgier material and the cartoonish antics of yesteryear, the Heisei movies initially steered clear of using any of Godzilla’s existing rogue’s gallery. So, instead of wheeling out Gorosaurus, Gigan, or Megalon — all of whom had been turned into jokey mascots by this stage — the filmmakers tried to come up with original, scarier foes whose public image hadn’t yet been tainted by Showa silliness.

The first of these newcomers debuted in the criminally underrated Godzilla vs. Biollante, which saw a plant-human-dinosaur-clone hybrid evolving into progressively stranger forms over the course of 100 minutes of screentime. Unfortunately, audiences at the time didn’t take to this bizarre concept and craved something more familiar, leading to underwhelming reviews and lacklustre box office receipts.

In response, a panicked Toho promptly backpedalled on their decision not to use any of the old staples and capitulated to fans with the crowd-pleasing Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah in 1991 and Godzilla vs. Mothra in 1992. Leaving just one of the big three out of the equation.

Sure enough, Rodan was swiftly corralled out of retirement as well, making an overdue comeback in 1993’s Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II. As was the case for his Toho stablemates, the Heisei era represented an opportunity for the pteranodon to get back to his roots and reassert himself as a force to be reckoned with. Indeed, this incarnation of Rodan is far meaner and has levelled up considerably.

The backstory now is that he’s a relic specimen from prehistoric times that has been mutated by prolonged exposure to Soviet radioactive waste. We’re introduced to this Rodan 2.0 when a scientific expedition intrudes upon his territory and plunders an egg that he believes to be housing one of his kin (in a later revelation, it turns out that it’s actually a Godzilla spawn).

Its fraternal instincts kicking in, the creature challenges anything that comes between it and the egg over the course of the movie, whether that be humans, fellow titans, or massive Gundam robots. You could argue that it bites off more than it can chew here, because Rodan is eventually defeated and seemingly killed off for good by Godzilla.

Yet that’s when it reveals its newest and greatest power. Resurrecting like the phoenix of Greek myth, the flying reptile comes back swinging in the climax, metamorphosing into a never-before-seen “Fire Rodan” phase. Equipped with a nuclear ray and the power to transfer energy into other lifeforms, it’s the toughest version we’ve seen yet, and he even manages to save Big G’s skin in the denouement.

Despite totally kicking ass, Fire Rodan doesn’t quite make it to the end of Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II, and so, he’s sadly not utilised again for the rest of the Heisei era. But this time, he’d only be out of action for a mere decade.

The Titan’s Millennial Makeover (2004)

Commemorating 50 years of Toho special effects (or SPFX) pictures, 2004’s utterly batshit Godzilla: Final Wars is the cinematic equivalent of watching an overcaffeinated 8-year-old mash their favourite toys together for two hours. Only less coherent and without the nuance.

It’d be easier to break down the principles of quantum superposition than it would be to summarise the demented plot here, but the basic gist is that Final Wars is a standalone ensemble piece that brings together virtually all kaiju in existence. Possibly the most movie you’ll ever see in your life, it contains anything and everything that was considered awesome in the 2000s, often with the feeblest of narrative justifications.

You’ve got a bunch of X-Men wannabe super soldiers, Matrix-aping motorcycle chases, professional wrestler Don Fyre playing a katana-wielding hero ripped straight from a Street Fighter game, a sequence in which baby Godzilla drives a truck, flying drill machines and spaceship battles, a score inexplicably composed by Keith Emerson, and a passive-aggressive dig at Roland Emmerich’s disavowed “Zilla”. Hell, there’s even a Sum 41 needle drop!

As John LeMay writes in The Big Book of Japanese Giant Monster Movies: “The film tries to be too many things at once and, as a result, descends into total madness […] Some scenes literally come out of nowhere, to the extent that first-time viewers likely wondered if the theater reels got mixed up”.

And he’s right! It truly does feel like something plucked from the hyperactive imagination of a kid who’s consumed far too much sugar. Or perhaps an adult under the influence of another white granular stimulant.  

Given how much is going on in Final Wars, it’s not surprising that its stacked roster ends up competing for screentime. In fact, some of the kaiju are afforded less than a minute before they’re roundly defeated. Rodan fares a little better than the likes of King Caesar and Manda in this respect, but he still only clocks roughly 65 seconds on camera.  

Naturally, he doesn’t accomplish a great deal in that brief window. Under the command of (say it with us now) alien mind control, he gets to terrorise New York in an impressive early-film sequence, and later gets caught in the middle of a match of kaiju soccer. Trust us, there’s no missing context that will make sense of that last part. Other than that, though, he’s very much a background character here.

One thing that is cool about Final Wars is the technology it uses to portray Rodan. He’s primarily a guy in a suit for old time’s sake, but the movie does also give us our first-ever taste of the creature as a digital effect, courtesy of some dynamic flying shots. This flirtation with CGI nicely tees up the character’s next (completely computer-generated) appearance. But we’ll need to flash forward another 15 years to get to that one.

Rodan’s American Invasion (2019 – Present)

Parsing the Toho lore should give you a general impression of the kind of stuff the “Fire Demon” might get up to when he finally spreads his wings and migrates from the big screen to the small screen. Of course, the precedent he set in those Japanese films has only a limited bearing on how the character will be portrayed in Monarch Season 3. That’s because what we’re dealing with, in that streaming series, is a fundamentally different timeline, a fundamentally different continuity, and a fundamentally different version of the airborne kaiju.

Granted, there is bound to be some overlap between the Rodan of yore and the Rodan of the modern day, and it’s reasonable to assume that the Apple showrunners will make a few respectful nods towards his rich history. Nevertheless, for context that’s more directly relevant to the creature’s imminent arrival in Monarch, we’ll need to consider his stint in Legendary’s MonsterVerse instead. Which so far amounts to a supporting role in just one film.

That’s right, the American iteration of Rodan has only appeared in 2019’s Godzilla: King of the Monsters to date, where he had to vie for attention with the other members of the big three and, regrettably, got shortchanged. Indeed, he’s saddled with a meager five minutes of screentime and barely has any impact on the plot.

Yet despite being given the least to work with, he ended up managing to steal the show with what’s commonly agreed to be the movie’s standout sequence. Surfacing from hibernation within an active volcano — like a classical titan — impassively wiping out a city that happens to be caught in his slipstream, and swatting fighter jets out of the sky with casual indifference, he makes one hell of an entrance. You just wish he got more to do after that!

Alas, his involvement in the story could hardly fill a paragraph on Wikipedia. In a nutshell, he’s awoken from slumber by Charles Dance’s eco-terrorist group, becomes Ghidorah’s sidekick for a while, and then pledges himself to Godzilla when his extraterrestrial master is usurped by the rightful King of the Monsters. You don’t even get a sense that he’s been doing much beforehand, as he’s apparently been sleeping in Outpost 56 (the fictional Isla de Mara volcano) for centuries.

Still, Director Michael Dougherty makes sure to imbue Rodan with due awe in the limited screentime he does get. Partial to folklore and legend, as evidenced by his work on Krampus and Trick ‘r Treat, the filmmaker likes to reverently frame the creatures in his movies. In the case of KoTM, he imagines the kaiju not as brainless smashing machines, but as majestic, godlike figures who have a primordial claim to the planet. 

That goes double for his interpretation of Rodan, who Dougherty depicts as a true force of nature and a living embodiment of fire, ash, and brimstone. The beast radiates extreme temperatures to the point where Earth’s atmosphere nearly ignites in his presence, and is covered in thick geothermal armour that cannot be penetrated by the weapons of man. In the novelisation, it’s revealed that he also has the ability to trigger eruptions by simply being in close proximity to volcanoes, again, making him feel like some elemental deity.

A fire lord, if you will.

While Dougherty does give Rodan an almost mythological quality, he takes care to ground the kaiju in the real world as well, by taking some inspiration from the animal kingdom. Specifically, he lends him the recognisable characteristics of a bird of prey, with vulture-like talons, the folding wings of a Peregrine falcon, and the predatory instincts of a hawk.

Suffice it to say, it’s a very, very cool incarnation of a monster who, unfortunately, doesn’t get enough time to shine in the movie itself. Honestly, there’s not much else to latch onto in the lead-up to Monarch Season 3. We know his abilities, we know the scale of the destruction that he can visit upon the world, and we know that he looks totally badass. Other than that, MonsterVerse Rodan remains a bit of an enigma at the time of writing.

As we see by his switching allegiance at the end of King of the Monsters (when Godzilla is proven to be the true alpha), he’s not even got much in the way of a titan agenda. Godzilla exists to restore balance to nature, Mothra is an emissary of peace, and Ghidorah seems to enjoy wreaking cataclysmic destruction wherever he goes. Rodan, on the other hand, has a sort of “lawful neutral” morality that sees him literally bowing down to whoever demonstrates themselves to be the heaviest hitter.

Given this flexible alignment and vaguely defined backstory, there’s little telling what Rodan will be up to when he lands in Monarch next season. Although if his Toho track record is anything to go by, there’s a decent chance he’ll either find himself under the thumb of alien overlords or caught up in some confounding kaiju sporting event. We’d love to see what those know-it-all Monarch scientists would make of that!

The post Rodan is Back: A Fire Demon Guide from the Kaiju’s Origins to the MonsterVerse appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Attending a recent hands-on preview event, we got to check Supermassive Games’ latest for ourselves and were highly impressed by how the developers managed to shake up the existing formula, while still retaining what makes these choose-your-own-adventure titles so popular in the first place. 

To find out more about how the release will kick off an exciting new era for The Dark Pictures Anthology, we sat down with Directive 8020’s creative director, Will Doyle.

Bloody Disgusting: The first four Dark Pictures (Man of Medan, Little Hope, House of Ashes, and The Devil in Me) were released on a near annual basis. However, Directive 8020 has had a three-and-a-half-year build-up to its release. Not only that, but it marks the start of the second “Season” of this anthology. Could you talk a little about what players can expect from the new era and how the gap between releases has impacted this latest game?  

Will Doyle: When we started formulating our vision for The Dark Pictures [Anthology], going all the way back to Man of Medan, we had this absolutely bonkers idea that we were going to bring them out every six months [laughs]. We had every intention of following through on that and mapped out the titles on the basis that these were going to be biannual. But we quickly realised that was just insane and so slipped to a more manageable, yearly release schedule.  

The thing is, even that had its problems, as we wanted each entry in our anthology to be more than just another story with the exact same mechanics and systems. We wanted to do more. To keep pushing ourselves.  

So, when we got to the end of what we’ve categorised as “Season 1”, and had those first four games in the bank, we took the opportunity to reflect. We had a proper think about where we wanted this series to go, what our aspirations were, and how we could ultimately take it to the next level.

As a result of this, there were a couple of really big changes that we wanted to make. First, we decided to introduce real-time threats and stealth mechanics, with monsters now prowling around the world and actively hunting you down. And then our other new addition was what we call the “Turning Point” system, which allows you to see all of the branching paths and player choices plotted out for you on a kind of visual map. From here, you can then rewind to [forks in the road] and follow different paths to the ones you originally went down.  

The gap between Season 1 and Season 2 also enabled us to move over to Unreal Engine 5, giving the whole thing a big visual upgrade and really pushing the games into the current generation.  

All of that together meant that Directive 8020 became a much more ambitious project than we originally intended. It’s set the quality standard for what we want to do with the rest of the series going forward.

On the subject of this installment in the series, I was wondering where the idea began. Every Dark Picture explores a different sub-genre of horror, but they also draw upon real-world legends and dark moments in history. Whether that’s the crimes of H. H. Holmes, the maritime ghost stories of the SS Ourang Medan, the Mesopotamian lore of Pazuzu, or the legacy of the Salem witch trials. 

Yes, that’s true. 

In the case of Directive 8020, you’ve been inspired by contemporary speculation around the Tau Ceti “Goldilocks” zone. Did you start from there when coming up with the narrative? Or was it just that you really wanted to tackle sci-fi horror?   

We really just wanted to do sci-fi horror [laughs]. There were a whole bunch of people in the studio who were drawn towards the genre in the concept phase. I certainly love it; Aliens is probably my favourite film. 

So, then, we thought about what we could do in that style. John Carpenter’s The Thing jumped out as an obvious inspiration, leading us down the road of a shapeshifting imposter creature that infiltrates a human crew.  

But you’re right to pick up on this idea of a real-world hook as well. We always look for one of those when doing a Dark Picture. In the case of Directive 8020, I was intrigued by one of the Apollo missions that took place just before the moon landing [Apollo 10 specifically]. Apparently, they were intentionally short-fuelled to stop the crew from being tempted to land on the moon. They didn’t want them to steal the thunder of Neil Armstrong and the other guys!

We thought that was a great source of inspiration. So, in our story, the Cassiopeia [which is the player’s ship] is just the dry run for the real Andromeda colony mission. All they’re meant to do is circle Tau Ceti f, choose a landing site, conduct a survey, and all that kind of stuff. But they’re not meant to land. Sure enough, however, they do end up going to the planet, and they get stuck there because they don’t have sufficient fuel to leave.  

The other real-world influence is actually the game’s name. “Directive 8020” is a NASA quarantine process for astronauts to follow in the event that they encounter extraterrestrial, organic matter.  

On that note, when you’re doing a sci-fi story, you can either lean into hard science (like with 2001 or The Martian) or you can take liberties and go more fantastical with it. Where does Directive 8020 fit on that spectrum? How grounded is the science here?  

We wanted it to be accessible, so it doesn’t go full hardcore realism. There’s an element of “magic”, I suppose. The characters have gravity boots, for instance. At the same time, we didn’t want it to feel completely made up either. It’s an interesting balance.

We’ve already touched upon the two big innovations for this game, but I was wondering if we could dig a little deeper into them. Firstly, why did you decide now was the right time to introduce the “Turning Point” system? 

I’ve got a theory about how people experience our games. On their first playthroughs, they tend to try to keep all of the characters alive. We have data backing that up.  

The second playthrough is when they start thinking about those “What if?” scenarios. That’s when they may try to see what alternative paths are available. And then after that, they’re going through it again to scoop up the remaining trophies or achievements.  

Anecdotally, I also know a lot of people will stop playing after their favourite character dies. I like to think that’s because we make really good protagonists, and people get invested in them. One of my best friends from school played House of Ashes, and he stopped after Rachel was killed. He was like: “No, the Queen is dead” and then didn’t touch it again [laughs]. 

So having that insight was one of the reasons we decided to create the Turning Point system. The second reason is that we just wanted to give people the opportunity to more conveniently explore our massive branching narratives. Because even if you don’t stop after your favourite character dies, you probably do stop when you finish your first playthrough. We know not a huge number of people dip back in for more than one go.  

So, we’re always trying to signal to players that: A) The game is branching and B) their decisions do have consequences. Turning Point allows us to show people how deep it goes and how expansive the branching paths really are with a visual map.  

I want to make it easier for people to see everything that’s on offer. By giving them the option to rewind to key branching moments, they don’t have to play again right from the beginning to experience the changing scenes. It’s about having a bit of care and consideration for the players’ time.  

I also noticed that Directive 8020 is broken down into digestible episodes.  

Yes, the rationale was the same here. When you sit down to play our game, you know that the next episode is going to last between half an hour and an hour. You’re going to get a satisfying bit of story with a natural breakpoint if you want to come back to it the next day. Again, it’s about being considerate of the player’s time. 

The second major innovation here is the introduction of real-time enemy encounters.  

Right. 

I was very curious how you approached this. The Dark Pictures Anthology obviously has a following amongst seasoned gamers and veterans of franchises like Resident Evil. But it also caters to a more casual audience, who like that they don’t need to have trained reflexes or raw skill to enjoy themselves. How do you ensure that the stealth mechanics and real-time challenges you’re adding here don’t alienate those people?  

That was very much on our mind. First of all, the main reason we have introduced those stealth mechanics is to add an element of fear and scariness to the exploration sequences. It’s not to make something that intensely challenges you, and we don’t want it to be too punishing, even for the hardcore fans. As you said, all of our games are quite accessible. You can get your gran involved!  

There’s something important about how frequent those encounters are as well. A lot of other horror games are very relentless when it comes to their stealth sections, but we’ve just sprinkled them in. Those bits we call “lean forward” gameplay. But then we still have the old “lean back” sections, where you can decompress, spend time with the characters, and make narrative decisions. We felt it was vital to give players breathing room.  

The other thing I’d say is that we made the intensity of those moments highly configurable as well. If you go into the settings, you can make it as hard or as easy as you want. You can even set it so that, should you be caught by a creature, you’ll be immune and won’t suffer any consequences. As for multiplayer, when you’re doing our Movie Night experience, you can tailor the difficulty for each individual player. So, one person can have all the lethal settings activated while their friend, who is just here for the narrative choices, can turn those off.    

How difficult is it to construct a satisfying story with a coherent throughline, active protagonists, and meaningful set-ups and pay-offs, when pivotal characters could be killed off at any minute?  

It’s super hard [laughs]. That’s a struggle we have day in and day out. We have this thing that a lot of our fans call “plot armour”, where a certain character cannot die until they’ve reached a necessary point in the story. We have to carefully consider how much of that we allow into our games.  

For instance, House of Ashes is probably one of our most praised games from a narrative perspective. But, to be honest, the absolute lynchpin of that story is the relationship between Jason and Salim, and they have to be alive reasonably far into the plot in order for that to develop. If we took it out, I promise you we would suffer.  

So, we have to think quite seriously about where we allow this “plot armour” to creep in and how much of it we use. It’s a tight balancing act.  

We need a clear vision for what we want to do with each character. When it comes to Directive 8020, we have this new feature based around character traits, whereby each member of the Cassiopeia crew can end up in one of two positions depending on how you’ve had them interacting with each other. This will determine their overall character trajectory. Of course, there’s a third option to their arc, which is that they could die early!  

It’s not just a case of thinking about whether or not a character lasts to the end. We’re trying to make it about what it means if they live or die. If you get Mitchell killed early on in Directive 8020, for instance, he still needs to have a purpose in the story.

How do the actors react to this material, learning that their characters could go in all kinds of different directions or be portrayed in contradictory ways?   

It’s hilarious! There’s so much stuff for them to record, and they can’t possibly learn it all. The branching script is just ginormous.  

So, what we often do is give them a sample of one possible throughline of the story to help them get their heads around their character. And then, when they turn up to the actual shoot, they’ll be surprised to discover all the other variants of scenes they’ve got to do. They’ll be like: “Hold up a minute, I die in Act 1?”

I remember Ashley Tisdale was shocked to learn she became a vampire in one [potential outcome] of House of Ashes. It’s very funny to see their reactions to those possibilities.  

Developed and published by Supermassive Games, Directive 8020 is coming to PlayStation 5, Xbox Series and Steam on May 12.

The post Supermassive Games’ Will Doyle Dishes on the Upcoming ‘Directive 8020’ [Interview] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Shamelessly riding the coattails of Five Nights at Freddy’s (a franchise that has, itself, proliferated a thousand times over like some kind of malignant tumour), these releases don’t need clever design, artful scares, or unique mechanics to get eyes on them. All they’ve got to do is reproduce the same hackneyed formula that’s enabled FNAF to become a multi-film, multi-game, multi-million-dollar franchise.

You know the drill by now: a blank-slate protagonist finds themselves trapped overnight in some deserted hotspot that we’re accustomed to seeing densely populated (toy store/ gimmicky restaurant/ shopping complex: delete as appropriate) and is then hounded by preposterously creepy children’s entertainers. Having forsaken their original mission to bring joy to families, these anthropomorphic stalkers now harbour much more sinister intentions. More often than not, their diabolical plans involve getting right up in your face and shrieking at ear-piercing decibels, so that (equally shrill) streamers can performatively overreact to something that the rest of us are utterly desensitised to.

In case it’s not apparent, this subgenre’s mass appeal eludes me somewhat. Whenever I am forced to endure the hysterical caterwauling of a thirtysomething YouTuber —suffering from what John Hammond would call “a deplorable excess of personality” — playing through one of these cash grabs, it makes me feel like Tommy Lee Jones at the end of No Country for Old Men. I’ve become a man out of time, despairing at a senseless world that he can no longer understand or relate to.

You’d be forgiven, then, for assuming I went into Dark Pals: The 1st Floor with an axe to grind. After all, it follows the genre’s blueprint to the letter. Not only does it have the stock premise described above, but, just like FNAF, it substitutes proper storytelling for inscrutable lore (which you have to consult ancillary materials to have a cat in hell’s chance of penetrating). Meanwhile, it also has an episodic structure, à la Poppy Playtime, that leaves you on an inherently unsatisfying and abrupt cliffhanger (in this case, The 1st Floor is chapter one, and it concludes with you counterintuitively taking a lift down to the second floor).

All of which is to say, Dark Pals was at an immediate disadvantage for me. It looked like a creatively bankrupt Five Nights at Freddy’s clone, sounded like a creatively bankrupt Five Nights at Freddy’s clone, and was lumped together on its Steam page with a bunch of creatively bankrupt Five Nights at Freddy’s clones.

Yet I honestly didn’t hate it! For all the red flags, within just a few minutes of booting up Dark Pals: The 1st Floor, it becomes very clear that it was a labour of love for its six-person development team. Skunx Games didn’t just churn out some low-effort shovelware here, as they probably could have, and instead delivered a solid experience with slick presentation, an intriguing world, and a welcome reliance on puzzles over worn-out jump scares.

Adult Supervision Required 

The title casts you as a (presumed) grown-up who returns to a familiar place from their half-remembered childhood, known as “UpWard”. A sort of amusement park mixed with a behavioural conditioning camp; this old haunt appears to have been caught in stasis ever since we left it in the 1980s, stuck now playing the same Tannoy announcements and infectious earworm tunes that we recognise from over forty years ago.

To put it mildly, the venue could do with a bit of TLC. The fairground attractions have all fallen into disrepair, the lobby balloons seem to have deflated long ago, decades-old stains have accumulated around the busted soda fountains, cockroaches scuttle through the commissary areas, and the roof is quite literally crumbling around your head.

Suffice it to say, it’s not quite the whimsical wonderland that our prodigal son recalls from their youth, although further inspection reveals that this was always just a façade anyway. Indeed, we soon learn that — back when UpWard was still fully operational — management employed brainwashing techniques to keep the kid guests in line and would turn to even more unsavoury methods to root out any behaviour deemed “non-compliant”.

The latter was policed by a cast of ostensibly jovial and kid-friendly characters who, for whatever reason, still linger in the abandoned building today. And it’s these ghosts from the past who will try to halt your investigation into UpWard and its sordid history, by any means necessary.

Never Work With Children or Animals

On a surface level, Dark Pals’ narrative doesn’t really offer anything you haven’t seen before in this genre. Yet the well-defined setting and kooky denizens that inhabit it are unique enough to give the game an identity of its own.

From the second you pass through the UpWard admissions gate — your arrival heralded by a band of ill-serviced audio-animatronics — you can tell that serious thought went into how this place would actually work if it were to exist in real life. It’s got a coherent geography (echoing the hub-and-spoke layout of Disneyland), detailed operations, and all of the facilities you’d expect a twisted theme park like this to have. Everything from the diner to the sports centre and the Main Street USA analogue feels authentic, balancing a sense of playful childishness and sinister authoritarianism without overdoing the contrast.

Crucially, the actual mascots in this mascot horror are distinctive as well. First, you’ve got Chompy Chasey, a sprightly dog with an oversized head, play block jaws, and an especially deadly case of the zoomies. And then there’s Binky Drinky, a hulking enforcer whose stomach is lined with razor-sharp teeth and who has a pacifier for a head.

The latter is a truly striking creation and can be found at the centre of some of Dark Pals’ most imaginative scenes, including one where (and trust me, dear reader, I tried to think of a more delicate way of phrasing this) he forcibly sucks himself off to prevent his sentient maw from trying to eat you. It makes more sense when you see it in context … Kinda.

On the subject of that bizarre image, which will forever be etched into my brain, the characters’ various actions and behaviours are consistently well animated here. For a team of just six developers, Skunx Games did a very impressive job bringing their antagonists to life, imbuing them with expressive facial features, ensuring that their movements are fluid, and integrating them seamlessly with their surroundings. They don’t ever look real — on account of their cartoonish designs — but they are believable as characters, and that’s what matters most.

I particularly liked how Binky Drinky’s pacifier will deform whenever it bumps against a doorway lintel, or how Chompy’s eyeballs exaggeratedly bulge outward when he’s trying to squeeze through a tight corridor. There’s even a fun scripted event near the end that has the two villains interacting, and it looks far more polished than you might expect from an indie title of this scale.

Paint-by-Numbers Mechanics

The other major UpWard resident you’ll meet is Inky, a stitched patchwork octopus who serves as both your stalwart companion and a multi-purpose tool. When held aloft like a gun and squeezed, this cutesy cephalopod will discharge ink out of his sack (again, I promise I’m not trying to be gross) for use in various situations.

It’s this shooting mechanic that serves as the basis for much of Dark Pals’ gameplay, although it’s interestingly never used for combat purposes. Contrary to what you might assume, enemies will be completely undeterred if you attempt to drench them with your gun, and the resulting splat barely even registers on their character models.

That’s because Inky is not meant to be used as an offensive weapon, but rather as an aid for solving puzzles. When aimed just right, his painterly discharge can propel objects, trigger mechanisms from afar, or add a splash of colour to monochrome illustrations. All of which will be required to progress through the facility.

His utility is cleverly demonstrated in an early tutorial, where you must compete in a series of carnival games to gain access to the first major zone of UpWard. You know, tin-can-alley type stuff!

From there, the interactions get trickier and more in-depth, but it’s still hardly Blue Prince. For instance, there’s a bit where you’ve got to identify the right sequence of steps for navigating a library of rotating bookshelves —  while using Inky’s colour-coded projectiles to open up new paths —  and another wherein you’re required to interpret audio-visual clues so that you can figure out the correct recipe for a childhood favourite dish.

Again, none of these brainteasers are especially taxing, but they’re varied, integrate nicely with the wider theming, use the Inky mechanic in creative ways, and give you just enough breadcrumbs to be able to solve things on your own. Indeed, the difficulty is appropriately judged in terms of how much the developers hold your hand. I rarely deciphered the answers to riddles on my first go, and often had to stop and think about things for at least a couple of minutes. However, I equally never found myself getting too frustrated because I had no idea what on earth the developers wanted from me.

My Kingdom for Some Yellow Paint

Alas, the same cannot be said for Dark Pals’ patience-testing chase sequences. Mercifully kept to a minimum for much of the game’s runtime, these dominate the last act and severely dampen my enthusiasm for the overall experience. Because whenever I was thrust into one of the poorly signposted, rage-baiting sequences, I felt an overwhelming desire to knock another half-star off my rating.

The problem is that the enemy encounters here are extremely choreographed and don’t let you stray an inch from the predetermined path. Granting little in the way of leniency, they’ll fussily demand that you follow a rigid script that you’re never privy to as a player, leaving you in a confounding trial-and-error loop until you eventually decipher the exact steps needed to progress.

Sometimes you’re supposed to turn left when everything about the situation at hand would appear to scream “turn right”. Other times, they’ll want you to double back on yourself without any clear indication that was an option to begin with. At one point, you’re asked to sprint forward towards danger, despite that going against your every gut instinct. And then there’s a fucking doozy of a sequence, wherein you’re meant to take refuge in a particular hiding spot (a bunk bed), even though it isn’t appreciably different from about a dozen other identical assets in the area. I guess you’re just meant to extra-sensorily intuit that it’s the specific one the level designer had in mind.

Worse still, you’re often expected to make these very precise deductions in a split second, because the game is insanely unforgiving when it comes to assessing your reaction times. The reality is, unless you have some kind of psychic connection with the developers, you’re bound to get stuck during at least one of these insta-kill sections. And it completely ruins the tension! After all, when you’re forced to watch the same unskippable cutscenes over and over again just to have another try, it’s inevitable that the threat of death will lose some of its power.

Of course, it’s entirely possible that this is a case of user error and/or a gaming journalist skill issue. Hell, maybe I’m just profoundly inobservant and need the entire level to be slathered in yellow paint for me. Yet I don’t think that’s true, given that I rolled credits within the developer’s anticipated 90-minute window and didn’t have any real trouble with the puzzles.

Regardless of whether I’m an incompetent who should have his credentials summarily revoked, I’d still maintain that this isn’t a great way to design horror gameplay. These ultra-scripted encounters are fine when used in small doses, but you need to have more substantial mechanics propping them up, whether it’s in the form of combat, stealth, or even dynamic chases that aren’t quite so staged. Otherwise, you might as well just be watching one of those YouTube Let’s Plays!

Putting these reservations aside, though, I liked Dark Pals: The 1st Floor more than I expected to. It falters on the gameplay front, but I was engrossed by its singular world, its polished visuals, and its memorable characters. Perhaps enough to want to come back and see what mysteries its second floor holds.

Review code provided by publisher. Dark Pals: The 1st Floor is available now on Steam.

The post Come for the Weird World of ‘Dark Pals: The 1st Floor’, Maybe Stay for the Derivative Gameplay [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Having begun the better part of a decade ago, this choose-your-own-adventure franchise has carved out a distinct niche for itself. And it’s a brand that audiences have very clearly defined expectations of.

The second that familiar “Whoa, Death” song starts to blare over the opening titles — summoning Pip Torrens‘ Crypt Keeper-esque host to regale us with yet another tale of bloodshed and woe — you know exactly what you’re gonna get. Each outing in the series presents a new B-movie scenario and populates it with a fresh cast of expendable protagonists. This cannon fodder is then placed at the mercy of your decision-making, courtesy of a branching narrative that can splinter off in all kinds of different directions.

Adopting the role of some unseen puppet master, it’s completely up to you how things progress from there. Perhaps you’ll flex your survival instincts and attempt to keep every single one of your charges alive until the end credits. Or maybe you’ll channel those control room guys from The Cabin in the Woods and deliberately lead your proverbial lambs to the slaughter: ordering them to investigate strange noises in the dark; leading them away from the security of the group; and fanning the flames of their interpersonal conflicts until they can no longer rely on one another’s protection.

Or, as a secret third option, you might try your damndest to safeguard the poor saps in your care and still get them killed by innocent mistake! Not everyone has the keen genre savvy of Randy Meeks, after all.

Regardless of how benevolent a demiurge you’re feeling, these games are among some of the most consistently enjoyable on the market today. They’re a cheesy good time for casual players, while offering more hardened gorehounds the chance to tailor their perfect scary movie experience (manipulating the outcome of events to attain the ideal kill count and score the preferred jump scare quota).

Yet, as winning as this formula might be, even its creators acknowledge that it could do with a bit of a revamp. Getting candid for a moment, Doyle confesses to us that he and the team have always wanted “to do more” to make each successive Dark Picture feel bigger and better than the last. Alas, circumstances just haven’t allowed for that. “We wanted each entry in our anthology to be more than just another story with the exact same mechanics and systems”, he tells us. “We wanted [to] keep pushing ourselves.”

The problem’s been that, up until 2022, these games had been releasing on an annual basis, affording Supermassive very little time to make substantial improvements or ground-up tweaks in between projects. In fact, apart from them dabbling in a new sub-genre each go around (cycling through paranormal horror, psychological horror, creature feature horror, and slasher horror), you’d be hard-pressed to identify what’s meaningfully changed in the world of The Dark Pictures since Man of Medan kicked the whole enterprise off in 2019. Indeed, it’s been pretty stagnant for a while.

But that’s all set to change with the upcoming launch (pun not intended) of Directive 8020.

Changing of the Seasons

With a three-year gap separating Directive 8020 from its immediate predecessor (The Devil in Me), the former has benefited from a lot more time in the oven than its Dark Pictures cohorts. And during that fallow period, Supermassive has found some exciting ways to shake things up.

“When we got to the end of what we’ve categorised as “Season 1” [comprising 2019’s Man of Medan, 2020’s Little Hope, 2021’s House of Ashes and 2022’s The Devil in Me], we took the opportunity to reflect”, explains Doyle. “We had a proper think about where we wanted this series to go, what our aspirations were, and how we could ultimately take it to the next level.

“As a result of this [review], there were a couple of really big changes that we wanted to make. First, we decided to introduce real-time threats and stealth mechanics, with monsters now prowling around the world and actively hunting you down. And then our other new addition was what we call the “Turning Point” system, which allows you to see all of the branching paths and player choices plotted out for you on a kind of visual map. From here, you can then rewind to [forks in the road] and follow different paths to the ones you originally went down.”

At our hands-on preview event, we got to experience a small slice of the title for ourselves and put both of these new features to the test. And we came away with a much stronger understanding of what to expect from this shiny new era of Dark Pictures, now that it’s entering its more confident sophomore season.

One Small Step for Supermassive, One Giant Leap for The Dark Pictures

Of course, while those mechanical innovations are certainly intriguing, the first thing that’s liable to turn heads with Directive 8020 is the dramatic change in scenery. After all, this one will see the franchise boldly going where it hasn’t gone before.

For context, every instalment in The Dark Pictures Anthology thus far has been grounded in either real-world mythology, real-world urban legend, or real-world history. Case in point, The Devil in Me used the crimes of America’s first serial killer, H.H. Holmes, as its jumping off point, while House of Ashes flirted with the Mesopotamian lore of Pazuzu for an adventure set against the backdrop of the Iraq war.

Directive 8020 severs these terrestrial ties, however, and is instead looking to the heavens for inspiration. Specifically, it’s got the Tau Ceti system on its mind. Home to a Sun-like star, this particular corner of the galaxy is the subject of great interest for contemporary astronomers and has been the focus of much scientific speculation of late. That’s because it has an extended habitable, or “Goldilocks”, zone that would appear to harbour just the right conditions for life. If you’ve recently seen Project Hail Mary, you’ve likely scanned a Wikipedia article on this very topic over the past few weeks.

Supermassive‘s curiosity was similarly piqued by the notion — as well as by the NASA quarantine protocol that serves as Directive 8020’s namesake — and decided that they wanted to take the next Dark Picture out of the atmosphere and into the final frontier. It’s a cool shift for the series and one that the team absolutely relished. “We just wanted to do sci-fi horror”, jokes Doyle. “There were a whole bunch of people in the studio that were drawn towards the genre […] I certainly love it; Aliens is probably my favourite film.”

Speaking of which, we definitely get Weyland Yutani vibes from the game’s suspicious Corinth corporation, which, in the inciting incident of the story, dispatches our protagonists to Tau Ceti in search of an Earth analog. You see, in Directive 8020’s bleak vision of the future, our pale blue dot is dying fast, and so it’s up to the plucky crew of the Cassiopeia to find a viable candidate for humanity’s new home.

The thing is, they’re only supposed to do a dry run ahead of the main Andromeda mission (who’ll then get to do all the fun colonising and terraforming stuff). Indeed, the Cassiopeia’s strict orders are to simply orbit the Tau Ceti exoplanets, choose prospective landing sites, conduct geological surveys, and perform any other tasks that will pave the way for the more important second ship to follow. Essentially, anything that stops short of actually heading to the surface of a planet, Cassiopeia.

Alas, for reasons that weren’t fully explained in our preview slice (it seems to have something to do with a meteor strike), the crew ends up crash landing on Tau Ceti f. Much to their dismay, this collision does a real number on the vessel’s critical systems and takes out their comms transmitter as well. Not to mention, because planetary expeditions were never on the cards, they don’t even have sufficient fuel to leave. In short, they’ve got no way of phoning home, and they’ve got no way of getting home.

If that all weren’t bad enough, it’s not long before the crew discovers that this hunk of rock they’re now marooned on does indeed support sapient life. And it ain’t the friendly kind. Cue fiery debates about proper quarantine procedures, impassioned arguments about whether to bust out the standard-issue firearms, and paranoid accusations flying in every direction as an extraterrestrial shapeshifter infiltrates the Cassiopeia and proceeds to pick off its deckhands one by one. It’s basically John Carpenter’s The Thing by way of Ridley Scott’s Alien. Not a bad combo if you ask us!

Close Encounters of the Stealthy Kind

Known as “mimics”, the copycats that’ll stalk you (or, more accurately, stalk the red shirts whose strings you’re pulling) throughout Directive 8020 are able to imitate other lifeforms with uncanny precision.

We’re assured that this idea will be mined for every last ounce of tension possible when the game releases in May, with you never being fully certain about who you can and can’t trust. Verifying the identity of our crewmates wasn’t much of a concern for us, though, because the mimics were in full mask-off hostile mode for the duration of our preview.

Indeed, when we’re dropped into the fray — mid-way through the campaign — there’s already been at least one fatality aboard the Cassiopeia and the aliens aren’t messing around with subterfuge anymore. In response, the remaining scientists pool together their intellect and expertise to come up with (what is effectively) the same plan devised by those lowly space truckers on the Nostromo. That’s right, they’re gonna try and turn the tables on their foe by cornering it in the maintenance ducts! And some poor unfortunate soul has got to go in there to spring the trap.

Where Dallas drew the short straw in Alien, and ended up being sent into the vent with a Xenomorph, here it’s co-pilot Brianna Young (played by Lashana Lynch, of Captain Marvel and No Time to Die fame) who volunteers for the job. The idea is simple, but risky. She must systematically progress through the tunnels and close the respective bulkheads behind her until the mimic has nowhere left to run. Naturally, she becomes the character we control for most of our ensuing hands-on session, which puts us right in the heart of danger.

Yes, you heard correctly, there’s danger now! Whereas previous Dark Pictures have largely been interactive movie affairs, consigning action to the realm of quick-time events, Directive 8020 has what you might call more traditional gameplay. The Devil in Me laid the foundations for this somewhat with its inclusion of environmental puzzles and a rudimentary hiding mechanic. But Supermassive has doubled down on the concept here.

Most notably, they have introduced conventional enemy encounters that require you to deal with patrolling mimics in real-time. We get a brief tease of this during the maintenance tunnel sequence (which shifts to first-person to heighten the jolts and claustrophobia), but the gloves truly come off when we’re navigating the lower decks of the ship as Biranna and are tasked with sneaking around murderous shapeshifters in order to extend an evacuation bridge.

With a scavenger hunt objective that sees you evading hostiles while hunting for a fuse that can power up your exit route, it feels like the kind of classic horror scenario you’d usually associate with, say, Outlast. Granted, the stealth mechanics are nowhere near as sophisticated in this instance, but it is still reasonably intense and adds a welcome element of interactivity that goes beyond just “Press X to not trip over”.

During this gauntlet, we weave our way through a labyrinthine environment, figure out the optimal routes to our destination, create noisy distractions to lure enemies away from corridors, time our movements to stay out of the line of sight, and even get into impromptu chases when accidentally spotted. It creates way more player agency than we ever expected to see from The Dark Pictures Anthology if we’re being brutally honest.

Adding extra depth to proceedings, we’ve also got a few bits of equipment to give us an edge over our pursuers, including a sonar-like scanner that highlights key points of interest and possible paths, a utility strap that can be used to remotely hack terminals, and a wedge tool that doubles as a defensive cattle prod. The latter is also utilised in nerve-wracking skill-check minigames — similar in presentation to those generator QTEs from Dead by Daylight — that you’ll occasionally need to complete in order to bypass certain locked doors. Take it from us, getting caught in one of these interactions while you have a mimic snapping at your heels is genuinely frightening and urgent. Again, in a way that The Dark Pictures has never been before.

Yet, as heart-racing as they are in the heat of the moment, these encounters aren’t particularly taxing. Especially not if you are a seasoned horror vet. Upon later replaying the section (more on that in a moment), you realise just how scripted it all is and how regimented the enemy patrols are. In that sense, it’s less like the dynamic, emergent stealth of Outlast and more like those bits where you get to play as Mary Jane in Sony’s Spider-Man titles.

That’s not necessarily a problem, though, as Doyle points out that the goal here was not to seriously put gamers through their paces. “The main reason we have introduced those stealth mechanics is to add an element of fear and scariness to the exploration”, he explains. “It’s not to make something that intensely challenges you, and we don’t want it to be too punishing.”

Which is a wise decision on the developer’s part, considering that The Dark Pictures series has never been aimed at the pro-gamer crowd. On the contrary, they can be enjoyed by just about anyone, with the patented “Movie Night” mode actively encouraging you to rope in normie friends and family members who otherwise might be intimidated by the prospect of operating a controller.

“All of our games are quite accessible, and we love that. You can get your gran involved!” Doyle continues. “[That’s why] we made the intensity of those [stealth] moments highly configurable. If you go into the settings, you can make it as hard or as easy as you want. You can even set it so that, should you be caught by a creature, you’ll be immune and won’t suffer any consequences. As for multiplayer, when you’re doing our Movie Night experience, you can tailor the difficulty for each individual player. So, one person can have all the lethal settings activated while their friend, who is just here for the narrative choices, can turn those off.”

When looked at that way, we’re inclined to agree that these fun enemy encounters are likely going to attract more people to Directive 8020 than they are going to deter. Because they’re intense, without being a barrier to entry.

Game Over, Man? Game Over?

Doyle calls these new real-time mechanics “lean forward” gameplay, in reference to the pose you adopt when locking in for an intense encounter. Through binary opposition, he conversely describes all of the usual Dark Pictures stuff as “lean back” gameplay. Those are the parts where you can decompress, look for clues that enhance your understanding of the narrative, spend downtime with the characters, and make the signature branching path choices that this series is known for.

Rest assured, all of that remains ingrained in Directive 8020’s DNA. For example, at one point during our hands-on session, we take control of Captain Stafford and have a heart-to-heart with Corinth CEO LaMarcus Williams. Over the course of this tête-à-tête, a few questions are posed about Stafford’s faith in the mission, which, in turn, gives us an opportunity to define his values and better establish his relationship with Williams. When we respond to the ensuing prompts, a message appears in the top corner of the screen informing us that our characterisation of the captain here will influence his portrayal in the story going forward.

Speaking about this, Doyle says: “When it comes to Directive 8020, we have this new feature based around ‘character traits’, whereby each member of the Cassiopeia crew can end up in one of two positions depending on how you’ve had them interacting with each other. This will determine their [overall] trajectory.”

Without seeing things through to the end, it’s hard to gauge just how measurable an impact these dialogue choices will have. Yet there was another fateful decision we made in the preview that had far more obvious (and immediate) repercussions.

Winding the clock back to just before Brianna’s journey into the maintenance ducts, we’re briefly put in the shoes of Senior Mission Officer, Laura Eisele. Invested with great authority in emergency situations, it’s ultimately her call to authorise the use of firearms aboard the Cassiopeia or not. And by that, we mean that it is really our call as Eisele’s unseen puppet master.

Obviously, we do grant permission for the captain’s revolver to be taken out of storage here. It’s only got six bullets, and we’re confident that there’ll eventually be a downside to it being in the possession of a bunch of paranoid civilians who don’t quite trust each other. But, hey, it comes in handy when Brianna is ambushed by a mimic later on, and Technical Engineer Cooper is able to come sprinting to the rescue, shooting the alien at point-blank range.

That’s more or less where our demo ends, by the way. Or it would be, were it not for another new feature that we’ve been dying to try…

Speaking of which, once we’re kicked back to the main menu, we promptly navigate to the “Turning Points” screen. From here, we’re presented with what looks like a subway map, in which our narrative choices are effectively the stations and their consequences are the tracks they lead us down (for good or ill).

“We wanted to give people the opportunity to more conveniently explore our massive branching narratives”, explains Doyle. “We’re [trying] to signal to players that: A) The game is branching and B) their decisions do have consequences. Turning Point allows us to show people how deep it goes and how expansive the branching paths really are with a visual map. I want to make it easier for people to see everything that’s on offer.”

It’s more than just a chart that keeps track of what you’ve seen and done, though. On the contrary, the big appeal of Turning Point is that it allows you to rewind back to dilemmas you’ve faced previously and choose a separate path.

In our case, that meant we could navigate to the node titled “Loaded Question” and reverse our earlier decision to authorise firearms. Returning to this exact narrative junction, we now choose the “refuse” option instead, which sees Eisele forbidding the use of any gun on the grounds that a stray bullet could potentially hit the ship’s core systems.

We then play through Brianna’s section as before — now with a few different lines of dialogue — to arrive at that pivotal moment where she is accosted by a mimic. With no gunslinging hero to save her this time, the co-pilot has to fend for herself in a QTE melee. Engineer Cooper does eventually turn up again and wrestles the alien away, but not before Brianna has her eye viciously gouged out. So, yeah, it’s a less ideal outcome than the first one we got.

Seeing this alternative version of events play out is proof positive that our choices do matter in Directive 8020. And the Turning Point system made it quicker and easier than ever before.

Raving about the feature, Doyle enthuses: “By giving [players] the option to rewind to key branching moments, they don’t have to play again right from the beginning to experience the changing scenes. It’s about having a bit of care and consideration for the players’ time.”

It’s definitely a welcome option that can, of course, be deactivated if you want to preserve the more old-school Supermassive experience. We expect trophy hunters and completionists, in particular, will get a lot of mileage out of it.

Between this, those invigorating real-time enemy encounters, and a visual upgrade from moving to Unreal Engine 5, Directive 8020 is looking to be an encouraging start to The Dark Picture Anthology’s second season. One that, to paraphrase Doyle, even your grandma could enjoy. Assuming she’s okay with graphic ocular maiming, that is.

Developed and published by Supermassive Games, Directive 8020 is coming to PlayStation 5, Xbox Series and Steam on May 12.

The post ‘Directive 8020’ Aims to Upgrade the Franchise’s Frights and Player Agency [Hands-On Preview] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

So enthuses Tommaso Nuti, Game Director at Big Bad Wolf and creative mind behind the recently-released Cthulhu: The Cosmic Abyss, when asked why H.P. Lovecraft’s singular imaginings seem to be so much more popular in the gaming world than they are in other art forms. Indeed, while there’s a relative dearth of cosmic horror outings nowadays in cinema or on television, it sometimes feels like you can barely move for them on the Steam store. 

Within the past half-decade alone, we’ve had The Necromancer’s Tale, RailGods of Hysterra, Forgive Me Father (both 1 and 2), the Alone in the Dark remake, and Bloody Disgusting favourite DREDGE. All of which are either heavily inspired by, or directly situated within, Lovecraft’s iconic universe of shoggoths, dreamlands, and Old Ones. 

With such a crowded marketplace — let’s not forget that The Sinking City 2 is on the horizon — any developer hoping to make their own contribution to this genre will need to have a fresh take. Otherwise, they’ll just get lost in the shuffle. 

Fortunately, Nuti and co. are aware of this imperative and have come up with something quite distinctive in The Cosmic Abyss. Modernising the so-called Cthulhu mythos, they’ve left behind the stodgy 1920s period setting that we typically associate with this genre and have instead situated the action within the year 2053. 

Here, we are confronted with a bleak vision of tomorrow where corporations are avariciously depleting the planet’s natural resources, important work is being outsourced to artificial intelligence, and inexplicable, ominous events are occurring on the world stage that defy all logical explanation. So, you know, nothing at all like 2026! 

In this frightening dystopia, you play as an Interpol investigator named Noah, whose latest assignment has taken him to the very depths of the Pacific Ocean. Here— alongside his A.I. sidekick, KEY — he must get to the bottom of a mysterious tragedy that has befallen the workers of an underwater mining facility. 

What initially starts as a cut-and-dry missing persons case soon reveals itself to be something far beyond his comprehension. Eldritch gods, Atlantean cities, and mind-bending hallucinations: you know all that usual Cthulhu goodness. What makes this so unique, however, is that The Cosmic Abyss eschews traditional horror conventions like jump scares, combat, and stealth. Replacing them is a focus on clever detective mechanics and branching path storytelling. 

To find out more about this intriguing blend of futuristic sci-fi, classic noir, and literary horror, we caught up with Nuti for an exclusive interview.

Bloody Disgusting: Movies rarely dip their toes into the Cthulhu mythos, certainly not on a big scale anyway. Yet it’s conversely very well represented in the video game arena. As someone who has now put their own stamp on Lovecraft’s material, why do you think it’s got such a strong foothold in this particular medium?

The success of the Call of Cthulhu role-playing game [helps] explain why this universe is so popular in video games. RPG and tabletop players already form a receptive audience for this type of experience. 

[On] the cinematic side, translating a universe that is — by its very nature — meant to remain unimaginable presents a significant challenge […] That said, it is certainly possible. 

Perhaps today the license is not yet established enough among cinephiles to encourage major studios to invest heavily, even if some projects and names — such as James Wan or Guillermo del Toro — suggest a growing interest. Personally, I would not be surprised to see Cthulhu reach the big screen in a major way in the coming years.

BD: What is your own relationship with the work of Lovecraft? Have you always been a fan?

TN: I discovered Lovecraft’s work when I was quite young, and I also had the opportunity to play the tabletop role-playing game. To be honest, I never imagined I would one day adapt this universe myself […] The idea for this project emerged during discussions with our publisher, NACON, where many people are very familiar with the universe. 

After those conversations, I returned to the original short stories, as well as other books and films inspired by them. This allowed me to rediscover Lovecraft from a fresh perspective. For any horror fan, it is a unique opportunity and an incredible creative playground.

BD: Presumably, The Call of Cthulhu was one of the key texts you referred to here? Were there any other specific Lovecraft stories that were big inspirations for The Cosmic Abyss?

TN: We drew inspiration from many of Lovecraft’s short stories to adapt the mythos. Our focus was on using the broader lore to build continuity within this universe, rather than directly adapting a single story. 

Among these, The Call of Cthulhu is of course a key reference, along with The Shadow over Innsmouth and The Haunter of the Dark, as well as another cult short story that I would prefer not to reveal, in order to preserve the surprise.

BD: Looking outside of Lovecraft himself, what else influenced the direction of this title? Are there any other video games, movies or pieces of literature that were swimming in your mind while making it?

TN: On the video game side, we are always very curious to play, test, and analyze what [else] has been done [in] the genre we are exploring. For example, The Outer Wilds informed our approach to investigation design, as did The Forgotten City. Dishonored 2 was also interesting to study in the way it suggests alternative paths to the main objective without stating them explicitly.

For the first-person approach, which was a first for the studio, we looked at Cyberpunk 2077, Resident Evil 7, and Resident Evil Village as case studies.

BD: One of the ways you are putting a fresh spin on the Cthulhu mythos here is by translating the action from the 1920s to the near future of 2053. What motivated this decision, and how do you think it changes the experience?

TN: Horror and science fiction form a compelling combination, one that has already proven to be an effective mix across cinema and video games. The decision to set the game in 2053 came from several reflections on the themes we wanted to explore. We wanted to echo current issues, such as resource depletion, climate change, the influence of large private fortunes, and the rise of AI. Placing ancient creatures and relics within this futuristic world allowed us to create a strong contrast between our civilization and theirs.

A near-future setting also gives players more familiar reference points than the 1920s or 1930s, reinforcing the sense of rupture when they arrive in [the canonical prison city of Cthulhu] R’lyeh. They leave a known world to discover another that is radically different.

Finally, Lovecraft set his stories in a contemporary setting, bringing horror closer to a reality [that was] familiar to the reader. Very early in development, we felt that taking the game in a thriller, horror, and science fiction direction was a risk worth taking.

BD: Tying into that futuristic setting, we don’t have a human companion accompanying us on the investigation here. Rather, our partner is an in-universe artificial intelligence. Could you talk a little about the character of KEY? What role do they play in the game?

TN: KEY is a fundamental component of the experience. From a diegetic point of view, they explain Noah’s tools and [act] as his companion. If Noah is Sherlock, KEY is Doctor Watson. Except KEY evolves.

Including a character who is immune to sanity loss and brings a different perspective on discoveries allowed us to revisit the mythos in an original way, while adding a new dynamic to the duo. More human than mechanical, KEY accompanies Noah throughout the adventure but cannot intervene directly in dangerous situations. This leaves [Noah] alone to face what he encounters, preserving the feeling of solitude.

BD: Obviously, A.I. is a hot-button issue at the moment, and there are lots of concerns about the ethnicity with which it is used, the reliability of the information it gives, and the biases it can internalize. Without wanting to go into spoiler territory, have any of these real-world anxieties informed how you characterize Key in the game? 

TN: At the beginning of the game’s conception, generative AI technologies were just emerging, and we projected the kind of ambiguity this could introduce into our world. By choosing a near-future setting, we were moving into speculative fiction, and it was important for us to shape this character in a way that would remain relevant and coherent by the time of the game’s release.

We imagined what these types of virtual assistants could become if applied to the work of a detective. While KEY is designed to assist Noah, it is through its interface that he interacts with the world. The more he relies on it, the more it defines and refines itself.

The central question we explore is: Who is really the tool of whom, and what are the consequences?

We were careful not to take a purely negative view and instead approached the character with nuance. The game offers its own answer, but it is difficult to say more without revealing too much. What we can say is that the line between valuable assistance and manipulation is much thinner than it may first appear.

BD: This is largely pitched as a detective title, and the primary way we interact with its world is by solving puzzles and collecting evidence, rather than by dealing with eldritch monsters up front. Indeed, you seem to have deliberately avoided more conventional horror game mechanics like stealth and combat. What was your rationale for this?

TN: We want to put players in the shoes of an occult investigator exploring a universe that is completely beyond them. Which is why we ruled out combat from the start. That said, the absence of combat does not mean the absence of threats. Many elements can kill you in R’lyeh, whether it’s the ruins themselves or the creatures that inhabit them.

From a logical standpoint, no conventional weapon would be effective, and direct confrontation would lead to certain death. Only your tools and your reasoning allow you to progress through the adventure. This also reinforces the idea of humanity’s insignificance when faced with these ancient entities.

To bring the myth to life and allow players to truly conduct an investigation, we structured the experience around this constant sense of danger. To survive, players need to understand the rules that govern this world, either by accepting them or by learning how to work around them.

BD: Yeah, I think it’s actually quite on brand for a Lovecraft story! Typically, the protagonists in these things are trying to wrap their heads around incomprehensible truths or just digging into past events. They don’t tend to jump gung-ho into action. Still, it must be difficult to create an effective horror experience when the player isn’t in real peril most of the time. How do you ensure that there is still tension here and that people feel on edge?

TN: Beyond cutscenes and scripted events, tension also comes from the player’s own way of investigating. Imagine exploring an environment for twenty minutes and becoming familiar with a place. Then you discover a clue that unlocks a new frequency on your sonar, revealing traces left by a creature all around you.

In an instant, the place you thought you understood changes and becomes hostile again. This is just one possible scenario. Players might discover these elements in a different order or miss some entirely while following other leads. This is where one of the game’s strengths lies: letting tension and twists emerge naturally [in a way] that is unique to each player.

BD: On the subject of this being a detective game, it seems like there are a lot of variables that affect how this can play out. Based on the evidence you collect, how you interpret it, and what tools you use, the player could potentially arrive at different conclusions, solve certain mysteries early, or miss out on vital pieces of the story altogether. As a developer, how do you keep track of all these threads and make sure that the player has a satisfying experience?

TN: We built on everything we developed in our previous games, especially in terms of branching narrative. The main challenge was shifting the paradigm, moving from “an investigation in which you are an actor” to “you play an investigation, and the story emerges largely from your actions.” 

This may seem subtle, but it implies a very different development approach. 

BD: And how branching is that investigation? What kind of things can end up changing depending on our choices?

TN: In each chapter, players investigate very freely within open areas. The more curious they are, the more threads they can pull, allowing them to make informed decisions and protect themselves from Cthulhu’s corruption.

As a result, players can approach and resolve obstacles in different ways. During investigation phases, the game does not present explicit choices. It is up to players to follow leads and understand the possibilities available to them. This makes the way they progress essential, as [it determines] their level of corruption. And corruption has a determining impact on the game’s endings.

BD: Speaking of the “corruption” mechanic, could you talk a little about that and give us an idea of what kind of things we can expect from it? How far does it go?

TN: Throughout each chapter, players make decisions that grant access to specific actions, scenes, and chapter conclusions. Depending on these choices, corruption may increase or remain stable, and in the end, they will face the consequences.

It primarily influences the game’s endings and the character’s narrative arc, but it also affects gameplay. Some abilities can transform, improve, or break depending on the player’s corruption level. It acts as a sword of Damocles hanging over the player.

BD: When it comes to the puzzles, how do you balance making them challenging and worthwhile, without leaving the player completely flummoxed?

TN: We want players to experience that real “eureka” moment when they find a solution […] It is that familiar moment from detective films, when the investigator suddenly connects all the clues, and everything falls into place. That is exactly the feeling we want to deliver.

Achieving this relies primarily on iteration, balancing, and, whenever possible, playtesting […]  Sometimes it comes down to small adjustments, such as refining a clue, reconsidering its wording, moving a key object to make it slightly more visible or, on the contrary, more discreet if it feels too obvious. Or it could even just be a case of rephrasing an objective.

We have also included a “Story Mode” for players who prefer to focus on the narrative. They can request hints and receive help from KEY to progress more easily. 

BD: While there are some details given in his stories, Lovecraft would often leave things up to the imagination of the reader when it came to thinking about what his various creatures, eldritch gods, and sunken cities look like. There’s a lot of “indescribable” and “formless” horrors in his works. Obviously, you don’t have that luxury in a visual medium and have to commit to showing these things properly on screen. How did you approach that? Did you try to piece together what you could from Lovecraft’s vague descriptions, look at some illustrated interpretations, or go in your own direction?

TN: Bringing this universe to life was a major challenge, led by Thomas Veauclin, our Art and Creative Director, along with the entire graphics team. Among our inspirations were artists such as François Baranger, Zdzisław Beksiński, H.R. Giger, and Gou Tanabe.

To take a concrete example, Cthulhu himself is an entity that has been represented in many different ways, and whose design has become relatively codified over time. This served as a starting point for our [depiction]. In the game, he retains the defining elements that make him recognizable, while being reinterpreted through a more personal vision.

This adaptation work was essential. We needed to find the right approach to translate this universe, while giving it our own identity. On that note, I would also encourage you to explore the game’s artbook, which goes into more detail on these choices and shows how the artistic direction was developed.

Cthulhu: The Cosmic Abyss is available now on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, and PC via Steam. 

The post Big Bad Wolf Talks Lovecraft And More as Inspiration for ‘Cthulhu: The Cosmic Abyss’ [Interview] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

He’s clearly poured everything into Project Songbird, a first-person horror title that is, yes, a commercial product aiming to reach as wide an audience as possible. However, at the same time, it often more strongly resembles a therapeutic exercise being carried out for the sole benefit of its maker. One that we’re tactlessly intruding upon.

Taking the “write what you know” philosophy to its absolute extreme, this is an incredibly vulnerable offering that almost feels like it was never really intended for public consumption. Rush bares his soul throughout the game’s 4–5-hour runtime, weaving a deeply confessional story that works through many of his personal anxieties about what it means to be an artist, as well as the crippling self-doubts that creep in when you don’t believe that you’re fulfilling your true purpose in life.

For the avoidance of doubt, this is not a case of the beholder projecting their own insular feelings onto a piece of media. On the contrary, Rush makes it abundantly clear what’s on his mind here with an authorial preface right up front, repeated fourth wall breaks, and increasingly meta sequences that obscure the lines between him and his insecurity-ridden protagonist. It gets to the point where the whole thing comes across as borderline invasive. Like you’re not meant to be witnessing something so raw and unguarded.

Facing the Music

The closest thing you could compare Project Songbird to — with all of its semi-autobiographical elements, introspective broodings, direct addresses to the audience, and appeals to universal human experiences — is not another video game but rather an intensely personal album. Which is quite appropriate, given that’s exactly what our lead character is working on when we first meet them!

Dakota (also known by the stage name: “Neon Songbird”) is a young singer-songwriter who has enjoyed moderate success in the past but is now going through something of a creative rut. Critical response to their latest release wasn’t exactly euphoric, and fans have wholly rejected the radical new direction they’ve been trying to take their latest material in. Meanwhile, the record label has been all but begging them to return to the earlier sound that made them so zeitgeisty to begin with.

Alas, neither music nor lyrics are coming as naturally to Dakota as they used to, and they’re starting to fret that maybe they’ve peaked too young and will never make a truly great track again. Giving us an insight into their crisis of confidence, one revealing journal entry confirms that they just aren’t deriving the same pleasure from the creative process that they once did, and are kind of “forcing it” now.

So, at the behest of their friend-cum-manager, Dakota agrees to embark on an artistic retreat in a last-ditch attempt to rediscover their mojo. Going all Henry David Thoreau, they drop off the grid by renting out an isolated cabin in the Appalachian wilderness (where many other struggling artists are said to have been touched by some divine muse and ended up producing their crowning works). That means no technology. No internet trolls. No snarky reviewers. Just the natural splendour of the American Southeast and a vinyl collection full of indie deep cuts to get the juices flowing.

In short, it’s the perfect environment to get back into the swing of things and block out the distractions of the modern world. Or so it would seem. In reality, Dakota finds all new ways to procrastinate amidst the great outdoors, whether it’s by taking scenic woodland strolls, running trivial errands, or getting hung up on annoying plumbing issues. You know, pretty much anything to avoid doing some writing (hey, we’ve all been there!)

That all changes one night, though, when Dakota is awoken by strange whispering emanating from the treeline. Following these eerie voices, they stumble across a will-o’-the-wisp that beckons them onwards into a surreal dream realm constructed out of their worst memories and places from a traumatic past. Here, like many others before them, Dakota inadvertently makes a pact with an eldritch force. One that gives them the vision to finally create that magnum opus they’ve been aspiring towards.

Of course, this is also a Faustian bargain that exacts a heavy toll in return. As our protagonist gets more and more addicted to the intoxicating power of unbridled inspiration and productivity, they also start to lose their grip on reality. Days blur together, they slip into lengthy fugue states from which they can recall nothing, and whatever entity they made this secret deal with becomes increasingly aggressive in trying to collect its payment.

For Art’s Sake

For anyone who has ever pursued a creative goal, Project Songbird’s script (penned authentically by Rush) cuts painfully close to the bone. It explores the heartbreak of falling out of love with— and perhaps even growing to resent — your art, raising probing questions like: “Who are you if the passion you once defined yourself by has faded?” and “What’s the point of carrying on if even you don’t believe in your dreams anymore?”

Whether you’ve successfully churned out several DIY albums or never once picked up a guitar, anyone can relate to Dakota’s worry that the very thing they were put on this earth to do is now beyond their abilities. We all know that feeling of comparing yourself to others who seem to effortlessly excel, while you’re trying so damn hard. And we can also identify with what it’s like to entertain those dark thoughts that take root when you consider throwing in the towel for good.

Even as it becomes clearer and clearer that the occult contract they’ve entered into is going to take far more than it gives, Dakota keeps on following that wisp into mortal danger. And you can’t really blame them! After all, what other choice do you have when the passion that you’ve tied your entire sense of self-worth to is on the line?

You can tell that Rush is writing from (all too real) experience when it comes to this stuff and that he achingly identifies with his protagonist. Not only because the characterisation of Dakota rings so true, but because he regularly pulls you out of the diegesis to make the connection between himself and his proxy as transparent as possible. We won’t spoil the specifics of any of these meta digressions, except to say that the title literally opens with a framing device in which you wander around the developer’s apartment while he toils away on Project Songbird. From there, we seamlessly transition into the game proper and find ourselves exploring Dakota’s uncannily similar domestic life.  So, you can safely assume that everything that follows is as much about the title’s creator as it is about the inhabitants of its fictional world.

Speaking of which, that world very much draws from Rush’s personal life too. The Appalachian Forest in which most of the action takes place is based on the area where he grew up, with certain landmarks being lifted from his hometown, and the owner of the rental cabin is named after his own Grandpa. There’s even a fun mechanic where you can sift through the vinyl collection Dakota hauled up with her to the woods and listen to tracks from some of Rush’s peers in the West Virginian music scene (all while your avatar delivers Patrick Bateman-esque soliloquies about the respective bands and their output).

 A Tortured Artist

Kicking back and listening to indie tunes isn’t the only “cosy” activity you can derive pleasure from in Project Songbird, as the daylight sections of the game take on an almost walking sim quality. In addition to just stretching your legs and listening to Dakota’s monologue, you can indulge your inner shutterbug by taking snaps with a Polaroid camera, messing around with instruments in the cabin, and — in one of the most addictive side-quests we’ve undertaken in recent memory — use your directional microphone to capture the sounds of nature for sampling in future Neon Songbird tracks.

Honestly, it’s during these more tranquil moments that the game is at its best, leading to you getting intimately acquainted with your compelling lead character (soulfully played by Valerie Rose Lohman, in an award-worthy performance) and immersing yourself in their surroundings. It’s got a slow and deliberate pace to it that may test the patience of those who just want to get on with the supernatural shenanigans, but, should you take the time to engage with all the unique interactions, it can be rewarding downtime that enriches the frights to come.

On that note, when night falls, the game does a dramatic heel turn. As soon as you cross the boundary into — for lack of a better description — the “other world”, more traditional survival-horror elements are steadily introduced. You’ll be tasked with solving Metroidvania puzzles, completing a few stealth encounters, and even engaging in resource-draining combat. A sharp contrast, then, to your diurnal objectives.

Taking you on a tour of Dakota’s most formative memories, there’s an echo of Outlast 2’s hallucinatory school flashbacks here. Meanwhile, the way in which the claustrophobic geography shifts and loops around recalls P.T., and the inclusion of mixed-media gimmickry warrants favourable comparisons to Alan Wake.

Yet for all the gaming reference points that spring to mind, it’s actually cinematic touchstones that appear to have had the most tangible impact on Project Songbird’s sensibilities. Specifically, Rush has cited the house style of A24 as a major influence.

Now, that doesn’t give you much to go on, seeing as A24 is effectively a financial backer when all is said and done and not an artistic voice unto itself. Aside from maybe Disney, there aren’t too many studios out there that function as recognisable brands, and this particular company has had involvement with such diverse projects as Lady Bird, Swiss Army Man, and Marty Supreme. There’s not much connective tissue between any of them, apart from the fact that they all made your normie relatives ask: “So, you actually like this stuff?”

To be fair, it’s evident that what Rush is evoking here is that pigeonholed, easily marketable version of the A24 legacy that is used to sell a very specific type of film. You know, slowburn, atmospheric chillers with folk horror underpinnings, traumatising imagery and, ideally, flashes of naked elderly people. All of which are boxes that Project Songbird dutifully checks!

To narrow it down further, we’d say it’s especially indebted to Robert Eggers’ and Ari Aster’s contributions to the canon. In terms of the former, traces of Hereditary can be detected in certain visual flourishes (like when infernal red light leaks out through the windows of your cabin).

Elsewhere, Rush shares many of Eggers’ authorial fixations and recurring motifs. For example, we’ve got a main character exiling themselves to a remote location, people driving themselves to the brink of insanity for the sake of upholding their convictions, and a heavy emphasis on folklore. Not to mention, there are some stylistic affectations that are clearly inspired by The Lighthouse director’s oeuvre, including aspect ratio shifts and flirtations with striking visual formats. The Witch is even namedropped during one missable line of dialogue, explicitly acknowledging it as a key text.

Not Quite My Tempo

Yet despite all of its jumbled inspirations, Project Songbird crucially never forgets to forge an identity of its own. On the contrary, it blends together all of Rush’s many loves (arthouse horror, walking sims like What Remains of Edith Finch, and, of course, music) into something that is often unique and exciting.

And the highs are very, very high indeed. There are at least a couple of ingenious puzzles that’ll test your problem-solving skills under pressure, and the emotional beats land way harder than you might expect (again, Lohman deserves all the praise for her devastating turn as Dakota).

As for the survival-horror side of the equation, there is one protracted set piece that is amongst the scariest we’ve endured in a hot minute. It tasks you with playing a series of musical arrangements on keyboards scattered around a dingy labyrinth, all while being stalked by a Weeping Angel-esque golem that is capable of advancing whenever you break eye contact. Having to perfect your scales here — sweatily consulting a reference sheet as this panting abomination breathes down your neck— is the closest you’ll ever come to a stressful video game adaptation of Whiplash. Suffice it to say, you’ll be rushing, not dragging!

If anything, Project Songbird could benefit from having a few more of these scenarios that cleverly incorporate the story’s musical themes. Because whenever you are thrust into more straightforward encounters, it can be a bit lacklustre.

In one of the game’s many fourth wall breaks, Rush candidly admits that combat is a little outside his wheelhouse and that he is more at ease in the walking-sim space. This discomfort shows in the finished product, on account of clunky shooting mechanics and melee that is quite ungainly.

Granted, Dakota is not meant to be a Navy SEAL, and you can understand why the developer wouldn’t want them to be performing suplexes on the monsters they bump into, but it’d be nice if they had at least some degree of hand-eye coordination!  As it stands, the janky parrying, floaty axe swings, and sluggish movement make you wonder if your character is meant to have knocked back a few beers (or perhaps a few six-packs) before each skirmish.

There’s also a distinct absence of audio-visual feedback to let you know when a creature is on your tail or attacking from behind. Even more glaringly, there’s a disappointing lack of enemy and location variety to keep things fresh. You just keep going up against bland, featureless wood sprites in bland, featureless corridors.

With this combat feeling so deflating, you’ll often find yourself prioritising evasion tactics instead. Not because you want to conserve resources, mind you — as you would in, say, Resident Evil — but because getting into fights simply isn’t worth either the trouble or the time.

Unfortunately, that’s not the only area where Project Songbird slips up, as we also have to deal with an underwhelming conclusion. Spoiler prohibitions make this a tricky one to explain, as we’re not allowed to go into detail about anything that transpires past the game’s second act, but Dakota’s journey is hastily wrapped up to prioritise an eleventh-hour change in focus that (while ambitious and experimental) isn’t what we’ve been invested in.

Again, we can’t say too much, only that entire plot threads are left dangling in the wind, and that we essentially cut away from what should be the final confrontation of the story, subsequently returning to the action when it’s been resolved off-screen!

Given the A24 inspiration, some ambiguity should be expected here. Yet there’s a fine line between leaving things open to interpretation and outright ditching narrative concepts altogether. Throughout the story, Rush introduces fascinating mysteries about a local witch, a tragic mining disaster, and these Appalachian creatures that constantly harass Dakota, and none of it is adequately resolved. Of course, you don’t want the answers spoon-fed to you, especially not if you’re trying to do the whole Robert Eggers thing, but there still needs to be some closure!

What just about redeems the final act is the catharsis we get for Dakota’s emotional journey. The way her creative crisis and historic trauma come together at the end is moving and sensitively handled, with a musical coda that’s legitimately powerful. While you might emerge disappointed by how the supernatural side of the story peters out, it’s hard to fault this particular arc.

Project Songbird might not be perfect then, but it remains an uncompromised personal vision that makes you feel things. Sure, sometimes those feelings are of bewilderment and frustration, but on other occasions, they could be terror, sorrow, and even a little bit of healing. In a landscape of AAA blockbusters that are fun but don’t really mean all that much, you’ve got to admire something that aspires to say something. And what Rush says here will connect with a lot of people.

Review code provided by publisher. Project Songbird will release on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S and PC via Steam on March 26.

The post A Few Sour Notes Don’t Deter ‘Project Songbird’ from Its Emotion and Horror [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

That’s how Conner Rush, creator of FYRE Games studio and developer behind the upcoming Project Songbird, pitches his new release to us as we sit down for an exclusive interview. Joined also by the title’s star, Valerie Rose Lohman (aka Edith Finch from What Remains of Edith Finch), we’re eager to find as much as we can about this buzzy release. Especially given that we named it one of our most anticipated games for 2026!

To set the scene, Project Songbird has been touted as an atmospheric, narrative-driven experience that owes a debt to things like Firewatch and, of course, Edith Finch. Dipping into other mediums, it’s got a bit of David Lynch and Robert Eggers mixed into its DNA too.

You can definitely detect traces of the latter if you read the game’s plot synopsis. After all — while it might not have the period setting of, say, The Witch or The Lighthouse — it does deal with Eggers’ recurring themes of folklore, self-imposed isolation, and people cutting themselves off from the world only to slowly lose their minds in the process.

In it, you play as a struggling career musician, named Dakota, who heads out to a remote log cabin in the Appalachian forest to try and overcome a particularly debilitating case of writer’s block. As they try to reignite their creative spark amidst the pines, they soon discover that things are not quite as they seem out here. And that something terrible is lurking in the darkness.

Further story details are being kept tightly under wraps for the time being, but you can get a flavour of what to expect by checking out the free-to-play “Faceless” teaser that was uploaded to Steam late last year. An original piece of content, it doesn’t give away anything from the finished product; however, it encapsulates the tone, look, and general A24-esque atmosphere that Rush is going for.

To find out more about the cryptic release, we sat down with Rush and Lohman for an in-depth conversation. Among other things, we talk about Project Songbird’s semi-autobiographic elements, its clever use of music, and how development has been shaped by response to the Faceless demo.

Bloody Disgusting: Before we dive into Project Songbird itself, I’m curious to hear more about the “Faceless” teaser you released back in October. The disclaimer that appears upon launch describes it as a “standalone experience with unique environments, altered gameplay mechanics, and an original sequence of events”.

Conner Rush: That’s right.

What was your rationale for doing it this way? Why did you decide against doing a conventional demo that offers a half-hour slice from the existing product?

Conner: Project Songbird is a story-driven experience, and when I was trying to identify a section that could represent it well in a demo, I just couldn’t pick one. It’d either end up spoiling things that we’re not yet ready to reveal or would be unengaging because the player lacks necessary context. You just wouldn’t get invested in what’s happening like you’re meant to.

So, I started thinking about how we could grab the audience without just giving them a [fragmented] piece of the story. While I was thinking about this, I played the demo for an incredible Spanish horror game called Luto, and [the developers for that] took a standalone approach for their teaser. It was very clearly inspired by P.T., and I thought that it was also the perfect direction to take for Songbird’s demo.

So, I then threw Faceless together using environmental aspects from the final release, alongside some fully original bits too. The sequence of events is totally unique to the demo, and I’m super happy with how it turned out. I think having that start-to-finish experience will lead to people wanting to come back for more.

P.T. definitely comes to mind, as does the “Beginning Hour” demo for Resident Evil 7. So, there is a precedent for this kind of standalone teaser. But those were made by AAA companies with lots of resources. Is it not tougher for you as an indie dev, given that you already have so much on your plate with the main game?

Conner: I work a lot! [laughs]. I just really like game development, so I was never too worried about taking too much on. If I’m going to be delivering something, I want to make sure it is the highest quality product it can be and that I am artistically fulfilled at the end of that journey. That’s what I got out of the demo! I do feel like people have been resonating with it thus far, which is great.

On that note, has the reception to the Faceless teaser in any way influenced development on the main game?  

Conner: Absolutely! It wasn’t intentional, but the demo has functioned as a kind of playtest for Project Songbird. For instance, I have improved the enemy A.I. based on watching Let’s Plays of the teaser and thinking, “Oh wow! Players are doing this one thing that I never thought they’d try. I should account for that!”

On top of that, I’ve been taking on board more general feedback, which has led to things like a redesign of the main enemies […] So, yeah, a lot of things have been evolving in real time as I’ve been listening to feedback and watching players interact with the demo. Ultimately, I think it’s making the full game a much stronger experience.

Speaking of which, let’s move on to talking about the full release of Project Songbird. In your elevator pitch for this title, you’ve called it the video game equivalent of an A24 or Neon production. What do you mean by that?  

Conner: It’s very much an atmospheric thing. I’m a huge fan of [Robert] Eggers, especially The Witch and The Lighthouse, both of which have left a big imprint on this game. I also really like the works of Ari Aster. I just love that risky, slow burn, arthouse feel. I love the tension it brings and the uniqueness you get.

Another name I’ve brought up as an influence, and this isn’t necessarily part of that A24 comparison, is David Lynch. I think all of these movies and filmmakers I’m referring to accomplish a lot by allowing for quieter moments and character work. That’s what I’ve tried to do here.

When many people think about what defines Eggers’ style, it’s all to do with historical settings, authentic representations of folklore, and a meticulous attention to period detail. However, Project Songbird takes place in the modern era, which rules a lot of that stuff out. So, what exactly did you take from Eggers?

Conner: To an extent, it’s a lot of tonal work; the way characters interact with each other, the way the environment works as its own character. But there’s also the folk aspects! While it’s not a strong element of Project Songbird, there is some witchcrafty stuff and bits based around Appalachian folklore. That’s the part of the world where I grew up and where I’ve lived almost all of my life, so I wanted to incorporate that culture in here. I suppose that’s where The Witch inspiration can be seen.

You’ve namechecked a few movies so far, but are there any video games that have left their mark on Project Songbird?

Conner: Absolutely. I’ve always been a big fan of the classic Resident Evils. Only recently have I started exploring Silent Hill as a series, which I have been adoring! It’s been in my circles of discussion for years now, but only with the Silent Hill 2 remake have I really delved in.

Project Songbird also has similarities with certain titles that are purely coincidental. Specifically with Alan Wake. I played the first one when it came to PS Plus and realised: “Wow! I’m doing a lot of the same stuff here!”

Going away from horror, I took a lot from the walking sim genre as well. What Remains of Edith Finch is one of my favourites of all time, and Firewatch was a big point of reference for the voice acting direction, too. Those are some of the best performances I have ever seen in a game! Then there’s The Vanishing of Ethan Carter, Virginia, and Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture. I just love that entire genre.

The demo certainly had walking sim elements, but I was surprised to discover that it also has combat and traditional enemy encounters. You can wield an axe, shoot a gun, or just run away from the spindly creatures that are hunting you. Was that part of your creative vision from the get-go, or was it added at a later stage to give players more agency?

Conner: This is my seventh game, and each one I’ve done up until now has been that walking sim experience. I’ve gotten a lot of good reception doing that. I’ve had great reviews and good download numbers. But I don’t want to rest on my laurels too hard, and felt like I needed to step outside of my comfort zone.

Resident Evil Village had just been released around the time I started developing Songbird, and I loved the way its combat felt. I wanted to recreate that to some extent. That was some of the first prototyping I did.

On top of that, I didn’t want Dakota to feel helpless or lacking in agency in their own story. Having Dakota be this very independent, strong, confident individual not only adds a lot to the story but lets the player have some agency in how they handle things.

Given your love for Edith Finch, it must be exciting to have Valerie voicing your game’s protagonist?

Conner: Oh, 15-year-old me thinks it’s the coolest thing in the world! Our meeting was funny because I actually didn’t know Valerie was the voice of Edith Finch at first. I saw some of her sketches on TikTok, where she was doing things like “What if Edith Finch was in a Disney Channel show”, and I just assumed she was doing a great impression [laughs].

Anyway, we were following each other for like a year on TikTok before I realised that she was, in fact, the original voice actor for Edith Finch. Around that time, I had started developing Songbird, and Valerie felt like such a good fit for the character I was writing. So, I hate to admit it, but I was kind of writing Dakota with her in mind.

We still did a proper audition process, with my casting director [Jenny Yokobori] reaching out to a bunch of different agencies. Jenny even whittled it down to her top five candidates for each role in the game, and Valerie made the cut there. It was pretty immediate for me. I want to believe that me being such a big fan of Edith Finch had zero bearing on that casting. She just really delivered on all of the emotional moments within the audition piece.

Valerie Rose Lohman: It helped that the audition material was so good! You don’t always get great writing. You always want it because it’s such a joy for the actor, but it’s not guaranteed.

On that note, what was your first reaction to the material, Valerie?

Valerie: It’s taken me to some places that I haven’t been before. I’m so excited for players to go on the emotional journey. It’s a true rollercoaster.

One thing that I just love about the story is that it has all these grand circumstances, but also a lot of intimacy. Dakota is isolated for much of the story, meaning that I got to really lean into their vulnerabilities and explore their mindset.

Dakota is a bit of an enigma for the audience at the moment. All we can really glean from the marketing is that they are a musician going through an artistic block and that they have ventured to a secluded rural cabin in the hopes of getting their creative juices flowing again. What more can you tell us?

Valerie: Dakota has a fire within them. Yet at the same time, there are overwhelming insecurities they have to deal with as well. I don’t know that I can say exactly why without going into spoiler territory, but they are incredibly emotionally complex. It was a lot of fun to work on, and I think that Conner was really successful in writing it so well. So much of it is on the page.

It’s fascinating to play someone who is a career musician but also dealing with this crazy supernatural stuff! That’s not their job. They’re not Buffy the Vampire Slayer!

As creatives yourselves, did this story strike a chord with you? After all, it’s about people struggling to realise their artistic ambitions. Is there something semi-autobiographical going on there?

Conner: When I started writing the script, I approached it with a “write what you know” mentality. A lot of it is based on my experience as a musician, which Valerie can relate to as well. We are a very musical pair!

It was definitely a case of “write what you know”. I love music. I grew up in the Appalachian region. The actual cabin you explore in the game is based on my family’s [cabin] that they built on the campground in Tucker County. So, this is all very true to where I grew up.

But it’s not just [that]. It’s also inspired by a lot of my anxieties around the creative process and being an artist. Anyone I have shown this game to who is also in the creative field has connected with it very strongly. I’ve seen a few tears mustered by that group, and that’s a huge compliment to me!

Valerie: I’ve been acting since I was five, and I’ve been working as an actor for over 15 years. I connected with the theme of what it’s like to have a creative block and fall out of love a little bit with your art. It raises the question of how you find that love again. I think that’s something so many artists can relate to.

What role does music play in the game? Is it just a motivation for getting the protagonist out into the woods, or is it a bigger part of the experience?

Conner: It was important for me that, while Dakota is starting to show a disdain for the creative process, they still have passion for the craft and for the art itself. That led to the inclusion of this one really cool touch in the game, where you can cycle through their record collection.

The [discography] here is full of real songs from real local musicians. You can inspect the covers, front and back, look at the vinyl discs, and play the songs.

Not only that, but Dakota will talk about them. They’ll comment on who the band is, where they’re from, and what the music makes them feel. I think that says a lot about them as a character because, even though they’re struggling with their own album production, they still really love music. That’s not been lost.

That’s so interesting! What was the process for getting this real music into the game? Was it a call-out, or did you approach individual artists?

Conner: It was a mix of both. Because I play in an indie band myself, I’m friends with other local artists. So, you’ll see some of those Pittsburgh and West Virginia people pop up.

But, yes, the majority of the tracks were sourced from a call-out on social media. I put a Google form in my bio and encouraged artists to put themselves forward. I got hundreds and hundreds of submissions, which I then narrowed down to 21. I had to turn away some really good songs, but I am super happy with the selection we ended up with. Even if you’re not a games person, you might appreciate Project Songbird because you could find your new favourite band!

Valerie: You did make a Spotify playlist of them all, right?

Conner: Yes. I don’t know how available it is right now, but I do plan on making it public when the game launches!

In addition to the semi-autobiographical focus on music, you’ve tried to put a bit of your hometown into Project Songbird as well. Did you need to do any research to make that Appalachian setting feel authentic, or were you, again, just writing what you know?

Conner: I’ve never been a writer who feels the need to be as accurate and realistic as possible. I’m more about getting to the emotional truth, as opposed to being strictly accurate. I remember reading a book in school called The Things They Carried [a war memoir by Tim O’Brien that blurs the line between fiction and non-fiction]. Spoilers, I guess, but at the end of the book, the narrator admits most of the stories he’s told you aren’t strictly true. Yet they carried an emotional weight that is true. That stuck with me a lot.

With that said, a lot of research did go into [realising] the setting for Songbird. I read a lot about Appalachian folklore because I wanted to celebrate the area I come from. In addition, I did some actual location scouting. My grandfather is an old coal miner, so he took me to some abandoned mines to get a feel for what they look like. That was really cool. I put a little tribute to him in the game, actually. The owner of the cabin you’re staying at is named after him. Don Prickett; that’s my grandpa!

That’s nice! It’s obvious that the game comes from an intensely personal place for you both. What do you think general audiences will get out of it?

Valerie: One of the things that I’ve always loved about video games is how they can create and encourage empathy. I experienced that when working on Edith Finch; so many people identified with that story and have spoken to me about how much it means to them. I just have a feeling that this is going to affect people in similar ways, and I’m really, really excited for that.

Project Songbird is launching on March 26 for PlayStation 5 (PS5), Xbox Series X|S, and PC. You can download the standalone “Faceless” teaser now on Steam.

The post ‘Project Songbird’ Developer Teases Atmospheric Appalachian Horror Inspired by Robert Eggers and David Lynch appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Looking back, not a single one of these solid (but inessential) outings set the world ablaze in terms of either critical reception or commercial success. Nor were they watershed releases that left any meaningful impact on the cultural zeitgeist. Hell, they don’t even tend to crop up in conversation much nowadays. That is, unless someone is explaining how Dark Sector spun off into the much more relevant and enduring Warframe.

And yet, for the brief period that you had them on loan from Blockbuster Video —  because, let’s be honest, they weren’t quite worth shelling out $50 to own first-hand —  they were utterly delightful. The video-game equivalent of summer flings, they may have only been in your life for a handful of days, but you cherished what little time you had with them and remember it fondly.

Honestly, in today’s era of bloated epics (that demand a level of commitment rivalled only by a career in the legal sector) and constantly evolving live-services (that will linger on until the entropic heat death of the universe), I kind of miss these disposable experiences. Perhaps it’s just millennial nostalgia talking, but I think we’ve lost something in the mad rush to make every AAA game bigger, more expansive, and, frankly, drawn out.

Which is why I am so pleased to report that the underdog spirit of “the Blockbuster rental” now lives on in the reasonably-priced Crisol: Theater of Idols. The latest offering from Blumhouse’s diversification into the video game market, this pacy horror-shooter shares a few aesthetic similarities with Bioshock, and it borrows quite a lot from Resident Evil Village, too. Yet, in its heart of hearts, it’s got far more in common with something like Singularity (for my money, the archetypal rental game).

To be clear, this is not intended as a dig at Crisol. On the contrary, I mean it with all due love and respect. Playing through its ideal length 12-hour campaign, exploring its self-contained biomes, and enjoying the simple pleasures of its no-frills gameplay (unburdened by open world busywork, crafting menus, or loot systems) gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Almost as if I was being transported back to the halcyon days of the Xbox 360.

The Body And The Blood 

The criteria a game must fulfil in order to warrant inclusion in my “Blockbuster rental” canon are admittedly abstract. But it effectively boils down to three main traits.

First and foremost, the title in question cannot outstay its welcome and should be easily beaten in a single weekend. Secondly, it needs to maintain a tight focus on its core action mechanics without getting bogged down in any unnecessary guff or tedious padding. Both of which are boxes that Crisol obligingly ticks.

The third attribute — and perhaps the toughest to nail down — is that these games ought to have some kind of creative twist spicing up what would otherwise be generic shooting gallery segments. In the case of Singularity, for instance, the player was able to invert or accelerate the flow of time at will, using the subsequent changes in the environment to their advantage. Stranglehold, on the other hand, encouraged you to master John Woo’s balletic choreography in a way that blended cover-based shootouts with the trick-chaining panache of a Tony Hawk skateboarding sim. Meanwhile, Dark Sector had its versatile glaive, Bulletstorm its arcadey skillpoints, and Army of Two its unique co-op interactions.

Theater of Idols delivers on this account as well. In fact, it might actually overdeliver, given that it boasts not one but two attention-grabbing gimmicks!

Gimmick #1 is that all of the enemies are religious effigies that have miraculously (or alarmingly, depending on your theological persuasion) sprung to life. What’s so fun about this is that their distinguishing characteristics and behaviours vary according to the material that they were fashioned from. If it’s just a basic wooden representation of a holy figure, then it can be reduced to kindling by either blasting away its constituent parts or whittling it down with your durable knife. Conversely, the stained-glass wraiths you encounter won’t go down quite so easy and can clone themselves whenever they are fractured. Then there’s the oil-painted gremlins, which spawn out of portrait frames and can liquify as a way of escaping your crosshairs.

As for Gimmick #2, that’s less about what foes you are fighting and more about how you fight them. You see, Crisol’s weapons don’t take traditional cartridges or magazines. Instead, they fire bullets that are made from congealed blood, and reloading them therefore requires somebody to make a generous donation from their own vitals.

I say “somebody” but, as it turns out, this sacrifice can only come from the gun wielder themself. So, every time that you want to stock up on ammunition, you’ll need to jab the butt of your chosen firearm into the palm of your hand and allow a hidden needle to drain sanguis until its thirst has been quenched. Think of it kind of like how the scarab beetle device worked in Guillermo Del Toro’s Cronos, and you’re in the right ballpark.

Aside from being a cool body horror visual and a nice bit of worldbuilding, this wrinkle has proper gameplay implications. After all, it means that Crisol’s ammo is universal, with your blood being just as compatible with the peashooter as it is with the sniper or the machine gun. The only difference is how much each piece of artillery asks you to give.

And make no mistake, you will have to weigh up these things frugally. Because it’s not only the guns that draw upon the precious commodity of blood here, it’s also your life bar. As such, whenever you reload, it comes with the suboptimal trade-off of inflicting damage upon yourself.

With ammo and health effectively being the same resource, you’ll have to make some risky judgement calls. Does the situation warrant converting a pint of ichor into buckshot for your powerful double-barrel, when a less costly projectile might do the trick? Can you really justify filling up the magazine of an assault rifle when its erratic spread means a fair number of bullets won’t connect with their intended target? Would it be more economical to just sprint past enemies and take a few hits?

There’s never a right or wrong answer to any of these questions, which makes every dilemma feel agonising and truly high stakes. It’s one hell of a gimmick, worthy of the very best 360-era shooters.

Praise the Sun

You might be wondering what possible circumstances could have you facing off against wood-carved saints and waxen cherubim, all while hooking up a rusty shotgun to your veins. Well, Crisol’s narrative is rather involved and lore-heavy. So, we’ll just cover the basics for now.

Set in an alternate history Spain, the game casts you in the role of a religious zealot who has pledged his life to the Sun (as both a literal celestial object and also a sentient, supreme being). Completely devoted to this doctrine and having a Moses-esque direct line to your lord and master, you are dispatched to the heretical island of Tormentosa on a top-secret mission.

It’s an assignment that you don’t exactly relish, with each second that you spend on the accursed rock feeling downright profane. That’s because, here, the residents worship not the sky above but the abyssal depths below. The Sea is their deity, and reminders of this sacrilegious belief surround you everywhere you tread.

Propaganda materials implore apostates to “join the storm”, while the converted brag of how their faith will one day be rewarded when they get to see the Sun “drown beneath the waves”. Not to mention, the architecture is all themed around maritime iconography. You’ll quickly notice, for instance, how anchors serve the same function in Tormentosa as the crucifix does for the Catholic Church. It’s centered in all their altars, placed atop the highest steeples, hung above residences, used to display flags, and even displaces the rod around which snakes coil in the caduceus sign.

To use a suitably religious analogy, you’re in the lion’s den here. Everyone hates the Sun, everyone hates his servants, and all of the enemy’s devotional idols have been weaponized to keep you from fulfilling your sacred mission. Which, in case you haven’t guessed, is to slay the Lord of the Sea himself!

Luckily, you have been imbued with divine powers to help you overcome the daunting odds. As the so-called “Champion of the Sun” (a moniker that will likely induce sniggers from fans of a certain long-running FX sitcom), you can manipulate blood in all its forms. Not only does this allow you to wield the aforementioned vampiric ordinance, but it also enables you to absorb the lifeforce of animal carcases for a quick pick-me-up and tap into blood memory echoes that let you glimpse into the past.

Equipped with both these abilities, as well as an undeterred fanaticism, you promptly team up with the local “Tercio de El Sol” resistance to take down the Sea once and for all. Doing so, however, will require you to first track down and defeat the Lord’s four heirs, each of whom can be found ruling over a separate district of Tormentosa.

¡Bienvenido a Tormentosa!

Suffice it to say, it’s a video-gamey plot that’s sole purpose seems to be justifying a bunch of creative set pieces and giving you adequate reason to explore diverse biomes. There are some narrative twists and turns along the way, but you’ll see them all coming a mile off, and it’s doubtful that you’ll get too invested in the machinations of the warring factions.

This lack of story depth would have been a bigger issue were it not for how Crisol imagines such a characterful world, rich with implicit history and lived-in detail. The nautical aesthetic definitely brings Bioshock to mind, as does the graphical style, the familiar HUD, and the emphasis on deserted locations. Hell, at one point, you even stumble across a bathysphere!

Yet despite the many similarities they share on (ironically enough) the surface, it soon becomes apparent that Rapture and Tormentosa are very different communities indeed. Whereas one is a metropolis founded on Randian ideals of objectivism, individualism, and unchecked progress at any cost, the other is a society where authority resides entirely with the Church, and where the dogma of that institution cannot be questioned. Very much the opposite of what Andrew Ryan envisioned with his secular utopia!

The primacy of religion has a knock-on effect for the imagery as well, with Theater of Idols swapping out Rapture’s art deco stylings for more baroque influences. In general, there is a European quality to much of the architecture here. The canals that intersect Tormentosa’s roads recall the iconic waterways of Venice, while the ornate cathedrals dotted around the island wouldn’t feel out of place in Cologne or Barcelona.

Speaking of which, the other thing that makes this environment stand out is its relationship with Spanish culture. Madrid-based developer, Vermila Studios, has lifted many recognisable elements from their homeland and embedded them into the fictional world.

Bull fighting is all the rage; the fashion is based around bold, colourful fabrics; posters advertising flamenco classes litter the streets; and regional dishes can be found unfinished in the many eateries you pass through. Much like in last year’s Cronos: The New Dawn, all of the text is presented in the native language, too, and will only be translated if you hover your cursor over it. Which is another nice touch.

The Island’s Must-Sees and Hidden Gems 

Such evocative worldbuilding makes you really curious to explore every nook and cranny of the environment. Which is a good thing, because straying from the beaten path is heavily incentivised by the developers.

Bioshock might jump out as the most obvious inspiration for Theater of Idols if you’re only glancing at promotional screenshots, but Resident Evil Village is a more appropriate reference point for both structure and game design. Taking after Capcom’s title, it’s a horror-shooter hybrid that’s played from a first-person perspective. Its map also shares the same hub-and-spoke layout, and it recycles the plot of having you assassinate a quartet of liege lords who each rule over their own distinct territories.

The latter aspect guarantees that the game is always refreshing itself, with you going from one creatively themed area to another. The first stop on your sightseeing tour will be a seedy neighbourhood of vice — concealing Tormentosa’s shameful gambling establishments and brothels — before you then head to an industrial mining site and afterwards a subterranean prison complex. Each of these zones has its own unique atmosphere, backstory, booby traps, and creature types to shake things up, ensuring that the adventure never grows stale.

From a design point of view, they are also densely packed with secrets to reward those who keep their eyes peeled. On that note, while the game is largely linear, exploration is still encouraged. It’s not as intricately designed as, say, Crow Country, but by solving metroidvania puzzles and backtracking to previously walled-off locations, you can unlock useful shortcuts, find extra weapons, discover hidden treasures, and learn more about Tormentosa’s bloody history. There’s an invigorating sense of discovery here, and it’s immensely satisfying to consult your map and see a room change from red to teal, indicating that you have thoroughly picked it clean.

The only drawback when it comes to this compelling exploration is that certain bits of optional content can be missed altogether if you unwittingly cross a point of no return. It’s not a major grievance by any means, but I was a little peeved on those occasions where I had intended to retrace my steps only to find that a ceiling had caved in behind me or that a portcullis had shut once and for all. It just felt like an unnecessary impediment that prevented me from seeing and doing everything that the developers had worked so hard on.

Holy War

To the title’s credit, the reason this vexed me so much is that, on a moment-to-moment basis, I was enjoying everything Crisol had to offer and didn’t want to miss out. Like a perfect Blockbuster rental of old, it was consistently entertaining, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat to be trimmed.

The combat is a particular highlight, with special enemy variants forcing you to adapt your strategy on the fly. Rank and file wooden idols, for example, can effortlessly be dispatched using the standard pistol, but you do have to unlearn that ingrained muscle memory to instinctively go for the headshot every time. After all, these ligneous foes don’t have brains to destroy, so there’s little point in aiming for where the grey matter should be. They’ll just keep coming. In fact, I found that blasting off their legs and slowing them to a literal crawl was far more effective.

Elsewhere, the oil painting gremlins dart around like stalkers from The Last of Us (flanking you if you don’t keep track of their position) and granite mini-bosses soak up damage in a way that depletes your blood reserves at an alarming rate. As for those stained-glass warriors, trust me when I say they’re best kept at a distance, what with their devastating melee attacks and tendency to explode into a shower of lacerating shards upon their death.

As you can tell, each inclusion in the game’s bestiary has an awesome visual design, idiosyncratic behaviours, and clever abilities. Vermila wisely keeps them apart at first—  so you get used to dealing with the different breeds in isolation — before later mixing and matching them in frightening combinations. It’s during those more hectic gauntlets that the combat becomes truly electrifying, with you flitting back and forth between tactics and making split-second decisions about how you want to use your remaining blood. When all of Crisol’s mechanics come together like this, it’s the most I’ve enjoyed straightforward FPS action in quite some time.

It doesn’t hurt that the guns are uniformly excellent to handle as well. You might think that some of them are nerfed to begin with, but if you invest in them at the shop in the hub area, then they can become the platonic ideal of their respective class. I initially wrote off the sniper rifle because it took way too long to reload and didn’t adequately make up for that with its underwhelming firepower.

Once I’d coughed up a few coins to address its weaknesses, though, it became my go-to weapon and took pride of place in my hotkey bindings. I wish more titles made their upgrade systems feel this impactful, as you can really tell the difference when you’ve made a purchase here, and it makes you legitimately excited for your next trip to the store.

A Test of Faith (and Patience) 

In the downtime between skirmishes, you will have to solve some surprisingly meaty puzzles. I tend to be quite critical of other horror games for making their brain teasers feel like an obligatory afterthought, but, honestly, some of the ones in Crisol might go too far the other way!

I don’t know if I’ve succumbed to cerebral atrophy at a premature age, but I’m embarrassed to say how long it took me to crack some of the riddles here. To be clear, I was never stumped on what I actually had to do. The goal is usually pretty evident, and they’re all problems that you’ve encountered before in some guise or another. Balance the scales. Complete the jigsaw picture. Calibrate the voltage on an electronic device. That sort of thing.

What’s unusually tricky in this instance, however, is getting the requisite pieces to line up just right. One safe-cracking conundrum —  which has three rotating plates that need to be precisely aligned yet turn at inconsistent increments — was my personal white whale. Indeed, it had me seriously wondering if I’d hit a brick wall and wouldn’t be able to complete the game in time to meet this review deadline. Granted, I did triumphantly punch the air when I finally worked it out, but the nervous breakdown that preceded this victory cast a pall on the afternoon.

Still, I have to respect how Vermila did include substantive puzzles that actually get your neurons firing. What they didn’t flesh out quite so well, though, was the flimsy stealth. There’s barely anything to it beyond crouching behind obstacles and waiting patiently for foes to piss off.

In all fairness, there aren’t too many of these forced sequences, but they do get fatiguing after a while. Invariably, they will drop you into some labyrinthine arena and assign an objective that entails making a lot of noise, all while you are hunted by a persistent, misophonic stalker named Dolores.

A towering executioner composed of metal, porcelain, and flesh, she is initially threatening and seems like she could be a worthy successor to Mr. X or Lady Dimitrescu. The sheen quickly wears off, though, as you get fed up with her cyclical patrols, looping dialogue, and obstinate refusal to give you a fucking break! Not to mention, when you eventually discover that she can be more easily outrun than eluded, it trivialises the whole affair and robs her of whatever menace she once possessed.

Developers need to be careful with these characters because they can often be more annoying than they are scary. Dolores regrettably falls into the former camp. If she had been used sparingly, she might have left a more favourable impression. Alas, by the time you get to your third or fourth altercation with her, she’s been reduced to naught but a pesky nuisance.

With all that said, Crisol: Theater of Idols does certainly have its blemishes. Nevertheless, they’re comfortably outweighed by its far more numerous (and far more considerable) charms. A winning throwback to the days of gimmicky console shooters, it has exhilarating action, tight pacing, great style, and original ideas to spare.

In the days of Blockbuster Video, I’d declare it a must-rent, and that’d be a ringing endorsement. Yet with that retail chain no longer in existence, and with the game having a very reasonable $17.99 price tag, I guess I’ll have to settle for calling it a must-buy instead.

Review code provided by publisher. Crisol: Theater of Idols is now available on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S and PC via Steam.

The post ‘Crisol: Theater of Idols’ Is a Charming Callback to Gimmick-Centric Shooters [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

The fact that these transfer requests were submitted presumably didn’t come as a huge shock to Esov and the rest of management over at Saber Interactive (the parent company for his working studio, Mad Head Games). After all, the studio’s hotly anticipated title is being touted as a 100% authentic adaptation of its disreputable source material. And that means there’s no room for skimping on all the lurid depravity, kinky sex, and graphic violence that audiences have come to expect from this world of flesh-ripping chains and pain-worshiping demons.

Indeed, Saber has been rather vocal about how they aren’t willing to budge an inch when it comes to the salacious content in their upcoming release and how they are determined to push the ESRB Mature rating as far as it will possibly go. To the point where they are wearing it as a kind of punk-rock badge of honor.

It’d be uncharitable, then, to call anyone a shrinking violet if they admit that they’re not super comfortable working on the game. Hellraiser: Revival is properly hardcore stuff that’s designed to test the mettle of even the most hardened gorehounds, never mind those of a more sensitive disposition. It’s totally fair if you think it’s going to be too much for you!

Plus, between John Carpenter’s Toxic Commando and Jurassic Park Survival, Saber has plenty of other irons in the fire right now. So, you can hardly blame a dev for wanting to decamp this project in favor of something a little less extreme. Perhaps a title where they’re not constantly modeling naked bodies, animating graphic BDSM orgies, or refining depictions of grotesque viscera. You know, something that they can happily discuss with friends and family at civilized get-togethers.

Of course, with our website being named Bloody Disgusting, there was no need to be quite so coy with us. On the contrary, we were eager to hear from Esov about what Hellraiser: Revival has in store for fans, and what it’s like to work on an IP that’s notorious for testing the limits of what censors and mainstream audiences alike will stomach.

Here’s what we managed to find out from our chat with the man behind this latest affront to good taste.

Not Safe for Work

To his credit, Esov completely empathizes with those employees who requested to work on something milder, acknowledging: “It’s not for everyone […] To be honest, it is not always easy. We are looking at our game day in and day out, often iterating on very disturbing content.”

Nevertheless, he maintains that the majority of people who stuck around did eventually get desensitized to all the titillation and terror: “I can’t speak for everyone on our team, but for the most part I think we were comfortable from the start. Our studio is located in Serbia, and for good or bad, our country did not always follow strict rules about exposing children and young adults to stuff like this […] For example, I saw the original [Hellraiser] movie when I was 13 or something.”

Unflappable as the team might be, we still can’t imagine it’s always easy to keep your composure when working on something as willfully provocative as Revival. You’ll necessarily have to collaborate with others on raunchy scenes; it’s gonna be some poor guy’s job to make sure that the human genitals look photoreal, and the staff meetings are bound to have a few unorthodox items on the agenda.

When asked if this has ever led to communal outbreaks of blushing in the office, Esov replied: “You are right, it can get awkward. For example, when you design a sequence of gameplay, a cutscene, or an important narrative beat that involves explicit content, you need to talk to people and explain your vision. Maybe even act it out with some of them in order to really align on the direction of that particular scene. [However] most of us have worked together for a long time, and we have a relationship that goes beyond professional. So, it makes these things easier.”

He continued: “We are all adults, but still, it can be surreal talking about some of the things that we put in our game. It’s not even the explicit or sexual stuff that makes it surreal. It’s more the weirdness and the context of it. There is simply no way to give an example without spoiling some part of the game, but usually [those] conversations turn into inside jokes for our team.”

We Have Such Sights to Show You

Even without venturing into spoiler territory, we’re pretty confident that Hellraiser: Revival is going to stretch the boundaries of what a game can show without earning that prohibitive “Adults Only” certification from the ESRB (which is typically reserved for products that are outright pornographic).

We certainly got an eyeful of just about every taboo we can think of in the title’s multiple trailers, replete as they’ve been with full frontal nudity, bondage, and gruesome eviscerations. Some of the clips we’ve seen would be enough to redden the cheeks of Frank Cotton himself!

And that’s what audiences crave from this franchise! Not just the recognizable iconography of cenobites and infernal puzzle boxes; there’s got to be some sharp edges as well. After all, a tame Hellraiser isn’t really Hellraiser at all, and so it’s a relief that Saber appreciates this and won’t be pulling their punches when it comes to their take on the transgressive material.

About this, Esov affirmed: “We are fans ourselves. We studied a lot of what makes Hellraiser so unique and appealing, [and] believe that what we came up with captures that true essence both in theme and in audio-visual delivery.

“Unlike traditional horror titles, we do not want to simply scare the player. We want to make them feel discomfort.”

“To really be captivated and disgusted at the same time when […] We tried to weave this feeling into interactions, mechanics, story, and cutscenes. For example, there is this discomforting aspect of body horror in Hellraiser. We really made an effort to incorporate a lot of up-close situations where the player is looking at a body being violated in some way. Sometimes the body is that of the player, even!”

The thing is, over-the-top violence is fairly commonplace in video games nowadays. What’s more attention-grabbing — and arguably even more controversial for the censors—is that Revival is going to be equally committed to the sadomasochistic eroticism that defines Clive Barker’s original movie. Again, we refer you to those BDSM orgies from the trailers!

Reflecting on how that sexual angle has been received by the industry so far, Esov added: “The reaction [to sex and violence] is definitely different. And I do not think it’s just in video games, it is in all forms of entertainment, in my opinion. But it also often depends on the context. Violence for [violence’s sake] and sex [for the sake of sex] is not something that Hellraiser does. There is a reason for it. It is an integral part of Clive Barker’s work. Without it, it’s not Hellraiser. That said, I do think that this is the right moment for this type of game that pushes the envelope just a little bit.”

Intrigued by that last part, we asked Esov how conscious he is of the ratings boards’ various hangups and turn-offs, as well as what different companies will allow on their respective storefronts. Is it something that is always in the back of his mind when making the game, or does he not let it influence his decision-making one iota?

He answered: “To be honest, when we were starting, we just decided to not think too much about it, especially when we were in the most creative phase of the development. We [agreed] we needed to be 100% committed to delivering a true Hellraiser experience, and that meant that we needed to push the ratings as far as they can go. We engaged in preliminary discussions with some platforms, as we still need to be officially rated.”

When probed on if there are any particular parts of the game that he’s worried censors might balk at, Esov chuckled: “Hah! There are many parts that really approach the edge. Sometimes these are details, other times there are whole sequences. Unfortunately, I cannot describe anything without downright spoiling the story and the content of the game […] I am eager to hear what ESRB thinks of it!”

Explorers in the Further Regions of Experience

This being an interactive medium, the ESRB isn’t only going to be scrutinizing what you see in Hellraiser: Revival but also what you do.

For a bit of context, the game’s story is essentially a rescue mission in which you must free a paramour from eternal damnation, after a night of adventurous bedroom fun goes horribly awry. You see, when your girlfriend Sunny is lacerated by the “Genesis Configuration” mid-coitus, you inadvertently summon the extradimensional cenobites, and she gets dragged off to hell as recompense. Talk about killing the mood!

You’ll then embark on a quest to save her from unimaginable suffering by infiltrating a deranged cult, doing battle with all manner of gnarly beasties, and even facing off against the terrifying Pinhead. In terms of mechanics, there will, of course, be a lot of panicked running away and stealthy evasion on the cards. You know, the kind of disempowering, helpless horror that we’re all well acquainted with after racking up countless hours on Outlast and Amnesia.

However, Revival will also be blending these familiar antics with more action-oriented gameplay. Indeed, you’ll be able to give just as good as you get and inflict brutal punishment on certain foes, courtesy of the title’s bone-crunching melee and sticky gunfights. Not to mention, there’s a bit teased in one of the trailers wherein the game seems to transition from being a first-person shooter to a first-person spanker. Which is very on brand for Hellraiser, come to think of it.

Anyway, the point is you will inevitably need to get your hands dirty at some point. Teasing what this means for the player, Esov explained: “Sometimes they will be an active participant [in the adult content], sometimes they will be passive [observers], and occasionally there will be agency, so they’re not forced into looking at it.

“We did encounter some technical challenges [related to this], but nothing really major. If I had to pick one, it would probably be our dismemberment system for combat. We wanted the player to be able to cut off limbs from enemies and do gruesome stuff to them during combat, so we had to build this whole system and production pipeline in order to make it work. It required a lot of effort to be able to pull it off.”

If the promise of severed limbs, interactive body horror, and a Mature rating that actually lives up to the label doesn’t sell you on Hellraiser: Revival, then maybe this one is just not for you. And that’s fine because, by its director’s own admission, it’s not gonna be everyone. Company employees included.

Us sickos will probably love it, though.

Clive Barker’s Hellraiser: Revival is currently in development for PC, PlayStation 5 and the Xbox Series X/S.

The post ‘Hellraiser: Revival’ Developers Aim to Deliver Authentic Clive Barker Experience Beyond Limits [Exclusive Interview] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

More than just the action-packed finale of a horror title — where the challenge hits its peak and the skills you’ve been honing over the past 10 hours are put to the ultimate test — the Lakeview Hotel is a site of immense significance for the player character. These scenic lodgings are where our dejected protagonist, James Sunderland, spent the last few happy days he shared with his dearly departed spouse, and where she has astonishingly beckoned him by means of an inexplicable letter from beyond the grave.

Not only that, but arrival at the quaint resort also marks the end of James’ hellish journey through both the town of Silent Hill itself, as well as through the murkiest recesses of his own psyche. A kind of terminus, if you will, at which he’s going to have to face the music and confront a hidden darkness that he’s buried deep down.

Emotions are understandably high, then, as you traverse the corridors of the Lakeview, knowing full well that a reckoning is just around the corner. After all, the place is infected with shameful memories, stained with bitter reminders of past misdeeds, and harbors evidence of a terrible truth that James has been avoiding for too long now. Oh, and as if that wasn’t enough, it’s also crawling with terrifying monsters that are intent on beating him to a bloody pulp.

Anyway, the hotel is doubtlessly the single most important location in this survival horror opus, as it’s where all the juicy narrative revelations are doled out and where we at last get some closure to our harrowing ordeal. Yet for all the seismic bombshells that are dropped, there’s a much subtler moment that flies under the radar here. And it’s one that perfectly encapsulates what makes Silent Hill 2 so damn special.

With Christophe Gans soon to be giving this beloved material the big screen treatment — courtesy of his forthcoming Return to Silent Hill — now seems like a perfect opportunity to do a deep dive into this scene, as well as the masterful experience that surrounds it, to see what all the fuss is about.

Going Down? 

The moment in question couldn’t be more unassuming. For context, in order to get to Room 312 — where James believes his partner, Mary, is somehow waiting for him despite being, you know, very much deceased — you’ll first have to take a detour through Lakeview’s basement.

Doing so entails boarding the designated staff elevator, which has an impractical weight limit stipulating that only one (incredibly malnourished) person can ride per trip. Without any luggage!

Using the lift to ascend or descend floors will therefore require you to shed a few pounds and empty James’ inventory into a nearby locker. Taken at face value, you might assume that the developer’s intent here is simply to ratchet up the tension by denying you access to the gear you’ve come to rely on throughout your playthrough. And that’s at least partly true. After all, you’re required to forfeit your firearms, ammo, and health supplies prior to braving the basement, and, given what you already know is lurking on the building’s upper levels, that’s a pretty daunting ask.

Yet it’s not just these survival tools that you’ll have to give up. On the contrary, you must reduce James’ haul until he’s not a gram over the elevator’s ludicrous weight threshold, which means also parting ways with your keys, your flashlight, your radio, and, potentially, a few items of more sentimental value. For instance, you might decide to surrender a precious photo of your wife or the posthumous missive that represents your very last communication from her (because, again, the elevator really is counting the ounces!)

Technically, you can get away with holding onto both of those personal documents. But, unless you’ve read that beforehand in a walkthrough, you’re more likely to just completely turn out your pockets to board the lift. From a game design perspective, it’s a clever way of putting you in the shoes of a grieving protagonist who’s struggling to come to terms with their devastating loss. Like James, you’ve simply got to let go of Mary if you want to see things through. No matter how hard that might be.

The brief interaction is present in both the original Silent Hill 2 and its 2024 remake, yet it’s especially memorable in the earlier version, as there, you are forced to relinquish every item to the locker individually, rather than in one go. And that extends to Mary’s photo as well.

Looking your wife in the eyes and explicitly confirming that you want to rid yourself of her memento mori lends this farewell even greater heft and (ironically enough) makes you feel the weight of James’ sacrifice all the more. It might be completely in my imagination, but I could swear that there’s a slight delay on the button input when you select the “Put on shelf” option, as if James is hesitating to go through with your intolerable command.

The Artistry of Terror

That last bit may not even be deliberate, by the way. Still, the fact that I think it feasibly could be is a testament to just how purposeful every other element of SH2 feels.

You see, nothing else here has been done by accident or without serious thought being put into it. Indeed, it’s a project where you can tell that the creative team was utterly in sync across the board and where each decision made was in service of a coherent vision.

You might not appreciate all the little nuances and thematic layers on your first go-around, but take it from someone who has rolled the credits dozens upon dozens of times, there’s a reason behind the most inconspicuous of design choices here. The story, the gameplay mechanics, the puzzles, the collectable documents, the item descriptions: it’s all entirely of a piece.

That’s what makes it such a watershed release, and why Gans’ new cinematic adaptation is going to be under intense scrutiny. Silent Hill 2 represents the epitome of a franchise that already set a high bar for survival horror. Not because it’s got some of the most recognizable iconography the genre has ever produced (which it does). Not because it’s one of the scariest experiences we’ve ever been subjected to (which it is). Not even because it has one of the most compelling narratives in all of gaming (which it has).

Rather, it’s because it understands what the virtual art form is capable of when it embraces the things it can do that movies and TV shows can’t. It’s got a depth to it that rivals a classic work of literature, and it rewards repeat playthroughs and analysis in a way that we seldom see from the medium. So, hey, no pressure or anything, Christophe!

Into the Fog

Before going any deeper down the rabbit hole, it’s worth doing a comprehensive plot synopsis. That way, we can talk about how the gameplay and story elements knit together so cohesively, without having to tiptoe around spoilers. Consider yourself warned.

As we’ve already discussed, SH2 has a supremely intriguing hook to get you invested right from the get-go. James Sunderland receives an invitation to Silent Hill from his wife —  whom he is 99.99% certain passed away due to a fatal illness — and decides to respond to this impossible summons.

Upon arriving at the remote settlement, he soon realises that it’s not quite the idyllic vacation spot he so fondly remembers frequenting with Mary back in the day. To say that it’s gone to the dogs would be a profound understatement. The infrastructure has been neglected; the charming small businesses have closed their doors, and all of the residents have seemingly been raptured off the face of the earth. Not to mention, the town has been enveloped by a supernatural fog that prevents any interlopers from leaving its municipal boundaries, and the streets are infested with freakish abominations that are equal parts Jacob’s Ladder and living, breathing Francis Bacon paintings.

With no alternative but to press on, James follows a series of clues about Mary’s whereabouts that have him traipsing from the local bowling alley to the strip club, apartment buildings, hospital wards, and underground prison complex. Along the way, he encounters increasingly disturbing visions and interacts with other lost souls who’ve been similarly called to the town by forces unseen.

There’s the depressive Angela —  whose perception of reality doesn’t quite chime with that of her companions —  the paranoid Eddie —  who has worryingly got his hands on a loaded gun —  and the young Laura —  a precocious whippersnapper who is somehow ignorant of the palpable danger she’s in. The stranger who really grabs James’ attention, though, is Maria, a flirtatious siren who is the spitting image of Mary and who miraculously reanimates whenever she is killed. More on that later.

Anyway, it’s a highly surreal journey that sees James doing everything from plunging his hand into a filthy toilet bowl (don’t ask) to watching two monsters getting it on (again, don’t ask) and eventually putting the trigger-happy Eddie down like he’s Old Yeller. All of which are trials he endures in the vain hope that he might be rewarded in the end with some answers about his darling wife. And boy does he get what he asked for!

You see, when he finally arrives at Room 312 of the Lakeview, after negotiating that elevator debacle, James finds a mysterious VHS tape that provides some much-needed clarity on his situation. Surfacing long-repressed memories, the footage reveals that the sickly Mary did not succumb to her disease as we were initially led to believe. Instead, she was suffocated by her husband in what could have conceivably been an act of compassionate euthanasia, bitter resentment, a selfish desire to be free of burden, or perhaps a combination of all three. Suffice it to say, it’s a major bummer for our “hero”.

In light of this new information, the audience can read Silent Hill as a kind of purgatorial realm that lures in wrongdoers and subjects them to personalised torment. It’s a fundamentally evil place that feeds off your innermost anxieties and traumas, in turn weaponizing them against you.

The obstacles it presents, the strange creatures prowling its streets, and the mind games it plays are therefore different for everyone caught in its thrall. In the case of James, it’s all been a literal guilt trip through his gravest sin. That’s why the town pointedly makes him visit locations like the strip club (tapping into his frustrated libido), the hospital (recalling the place he committed that uxoricidal deed), and a prison (satisfying his desire for punishment). It’s why he also has to endure watching Mary’s doppelganger getting murdered over and over again. In short, it’s a hell of his own making.

Rated M for Mature

As you can tell, SH2 deals with challenging subject matter. James’ arc revolves around themes of misogyny, martyrdom, self-flagellation, and (depending on which ending you unlock) potentially even suicide. Meanwhile, the subplots relating to other characters variously broach such difficult topics as child abuse, gun violence, and sexual assault.

This is obviously thorny stuff that the most reputable forms of entertainment —  like books and theater —  can mishandle if sufficient care isn’t taken. And they’d had way more practice at it than video games circa 2001!

Indeed, the interactive medium was still in relative infancy when Silent Hill 2 launched and had yet to evolve into the legitimate method of storytelling that it is today. Whenever releases engaged with “adult themes” during those awkward growing years, it usually meant that they had a crude sense of humour and would occasionally flash a pair of polygonal breasts at the player. To put it into perspective, one of SH2’s contemporaries was Conker’s Bad Fur Day: a 3D platformer in which you controlled a potty-mouthed squirrel, suffering from a debilitating hangover, who at one juncture has to battle a pile of anthropomorphic shit. Which, to be fair, was about as sophisticated as video game writing got at the time.

It was, therefore, a gutsy move on Team Silent’s part to tackle the subject matter they did here. Given the practically non-existent standards for voice acting and dialogue in that era (just look at Resident Evil’s cutscenes on the PSOne), it could have easily fallen flat on its face and come across as comical. Or worse, tone-deaf.

But the remarkable thing about Silent Hill 2 is that it doesn’t fumble its tricky material at all; instead navigating it with surprising tact, delicacy and emotional intelligence. Angela’s domestic backstory, in particular, could have been outright distasteful if not handled sensitively. Yet it ends up being one of the game’s most accomplished plotlines because the developers knew exactly how far to push it and what parts were best left up to interpretation. Honestly, if a prestige film executed it half as well, you’d be impressed.

On that note, it does help that a lot of the bleakest aspects of the tale are only implied. Nothing is inelegantly spelt out, characters rarely orate their inner thoughts, and there’s no didactic moralising to make sure that you get the message.

Quite the opposite! Instead of being communicated through verbal language, most of the ideas are expressed through the unique language of video games. Case in point, the riddles you’re tasked with solving often tie into James’ preoccupation with crime and punishment, while the dynamic floating camera has us frequently looking down on our avatar, as if to corroborate his suspicions that he is being constantly persecuted.

Then there are all of the passive-aggressive ways that the game taunts you, paralleling how the town is similarly getting under your avatar’s skin. Take that aforementioned bit with the storage locker, for instance, or the sequence wherein a text prompt repeatedly asks if you want to continue descending into a dark abyss — knowing full well that you’re not really being given a choice in the matter.

Getting Your Just Desserts

Of course, this being a survival horror title, the main way you’ll be interacting with its diegesis is by bludgeoning to death all kinds of grotesque beasties. And, as with every other facet of their design, the developers ingeniously use these encounters as a way of getting you to identify with your lead character.

To reiterate, everything that James sees, hears and touches in the world of Silent Hill has been fabricated by the town for the express purpose of messing with him. That extends to all creatures, great and small, that stand between him and his desired reconciliation with Mary.

Effectively living manifestations of his personal demons, they’re not so much physical threats as they are psychological provocations. Sure, they can do some damage if you allow yourself to be mobbed by a large group. However, these skirmishes aren’t going to pose too much trouble unless you’re a proper casual player.

In fact, you get the impression that that’s almost the point. The enemies are supposed to be pushovers because the town is trying to make James (and by extension, you) relive his lowest point. It might not occur to you on a first run but, with the benefit of hindsight, it’s notable that they’re all either explicitly feminine or at the very least have heightened gender qualities. The mannequins are basically two pairs of women’s legs joined together at the waist, the bubblehead nurses have notably short skirts and exposed cleavage, and it doesn’t take a Freudian scholar to deduce what the so-called “flesh lips” are meant to symbolise.

There’s certainly a lot you can read into their visual designs (a popular theory posits that the nurses were conjured from the guilt James carries for having a wandering eye while he impatiently waited for Mary to flatline in the hospital), but the important thing is that they are mostly female. And you’ve got to brutally slaughter them over and over again.

The game doesn’t let you off easy either, cleverly using the tropes of its genre to make sure that these kills are as gruelling as possible. As per survival horror tradition, conserving ammo is encouraged in SH2. Resources are sparsely distributed and, more often than not, you’ll be dispatching the wretched feminine creatures you encounter with a durable melee weapon. This forces you to get up close and personal as you hammer the attack button until there’s no sign of life remaining. Sometimes, your downed foes will even let out eerie screams and spasm on the floor, at which point you can finish them off with a quick kick to the stomach.

As you can imagine, there’s nothing remotely triumphant about these wins. Unlike when you pop off a satisfying headshot on a Ganado in Resident Evil 4, it never once feels good to kill something in Silent Hill 2. You’re just forced to wail on them until they expire. It’s a depressingly hollow victory and a fitting penance, really, considering what James did to wind up in this scenario in the first place.

Speaking of which, the only male-coded character that emerges from our protagonist’s subconscious is the iconic Pyramid Head, and, crucially, he’s also the only one that you cannot kill (not until you reach a pivotal story moment anyway). If you don’t know the lore behind this unstoppable bogeyman, he’s basically a reflection of how James sees himself, insofar as he’s a ruthless executer of women who seems hellbent on slaughtering Maria (Mary’s double) at every chance he gets.

So, you can understand the significance behind which entities the town allows you to kill and which it does not. As part of its malicious psychodrama, you’ll have to defeat countless feminine creatures in order to make James relive his deepest regret on an infinite loop. But you can’t put Pyramid Head out of your misery, because he is you. And that’s something you’re just gonna have to live with.

Before You Judge a Man, Walk a Mile in His Shoes 

As dour as all that sounds, there is hope for salvation. It just depends on you.

Games with multiple endings usually shepherd you towards one denouement or the other by presenting forks in the road at which you’ll have to make clear-cut Path A/Path B decisions. You may be familiar with this well-worn, choose-your-own adventure style of narrative from the likes of Mass Effect, Baldur’s Gate 3 and every single installment in The Dark Pictures Anthology.

It works a little differently in Silent Hill 2, though, as you’re not necessarily aware of how your actions are influencing the final outcome. It’s less about making conscious choices and more about how you subliminally characterise James in moment-to-moment gameplay.

Those who finished the recent Silent Hill f will immediately recognise this unusual approach. In that newer title, your ending was largely determined by whether or not you could help Hinako kick her addiction to pharmaceuticals by resisting the impulse to take any of the game’s “red capsule” healing items.

Meanwhile, in SH2, it’s all to do with how your playstyle informs James’ motivation for battling through the fog. The ending criteria is admittedly quite abstract in this respect. Yet should you keep on top of his vitals and heal whenever necessary, it’ll imply that his self-preservation instincts are intact and tee you up for the optimistic “Leave” resolution (in which James comes to terms with his wrongdoings and emerges from this nightmare as a better man).

Conversely, if you neglect to patch up his wounds and obsess over the kitchen knife in your inventory, it hints at a latent death wish and puts you on a course for a far gloomier conclusion. Then there’s the other canonical ending, in which your persistent clinging to Maria leads to James not learning his lesson, absolving himself of murder, and trading in his old lady for a healthier, sexier model. This novel approach to unlockable endings is yet another fascinating way that the developers break down the barrier between player and avatar in Silent Hill 2.

Roger Ebert famously said that “movies are like a machine that generates empathy”. If we accept that as writ, then video games arguably have the potential to go a step further by having you fully inhabit the role of another person. Perhaps somebody that you might not identify with under any other circumstances. In all frankness, I don’t think the industry manages to seize upon that potential as often as it should. Still, titles like Silent Hill 2 evidence that it can be done, so long as creators are smart and make thoughtful choices about how they use the medium’s language to their advantage.

James is a complex character, fraught with contradiction and obfuscated by his amnesiac backstory. However, the clever methods that the game employs to thrust you into his headspace make you understand him in a way that you never could by just vicariously watching his journey unfold on screen. It’s baked into everything from the subtle interactions it has you performing on his behalf to the combat mechanics and even the way you ultimately can determine his fate. That’s what makes Silent Hill 2 so special and why it still holds up to this day. Like a true work of art, its strengths are timeless.

Return to Silent Hill releases in theaters January 23, 2026 from Cineverse & Bloody Disgusting. Tickets are available now.

The post That “Special Place” That Makes ‘Silent Hill 2’ So Special Itself appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

2026 is set to continue that pleasing trend, with a healthy mix of dark horse indies, mid-budget curios, and AAA sequels that are sure to grab the attention of players. Among other things, we’ve got macabre animal hybrids, creepy Japanese spectres, legendary slasher icons, freakin’ dinosaurs, and the return of a bona fide genre juggernaut.

Honestly, we don’t know how we’re gonna fit it all in. Even our Honourable Mentions list is overflowing with goodness!

With that said, here are Bloody Disgusting’s most anticipated horror, or horror adjacent, games of 2026.

Honourable Mentions: The Sinking City 2, There Are No Ghosts at the Grand, Code Vein II, Resonance: A Plague Tale Legacy, Silver Pines, Mouse: P.I. For Hire, darkwebSTREAMER, I Hate This Place, Welcome to Doll Town, John Carpenter’s Toxic Commando, Paranormal Activity: Threshold, BrokenLore: ASCEND, The Boba Teashop, Mourning Tide, The Florist, The Victor Initiative, Project Songbird, Tenebris Somnia, The Bagman, and Sam Barlow’s enigmatic Project C (provided the release date gods are kind).

10) Shark Dentist

If the measure of a high-concept idea is how succinctly you’re able to sell it whilst still articulating its appeal, then they don’t come much tighter than Shark Dentist. After all, this upcoming indie from Alice Games doesn’t even require a cursory log line to set out its premise with crystalline clarity. All it needs are those two perfectly paired words in the title, outlining everything you need to know right up front.

Well, almost everything. I suppose you could get the wrong end of the stick and labour under the false impression that it’s about an aquatic maneater deciding to take up an unlikely career in odontology. But the heuristic principle of Occam’s Razor would hopefully lead you to the (much saner) conclusion that it’s a game wherein you control a human healthcare professional. One who is charged with looking after the pearly whites of, well, Great Whites.

It’s one of those ingenious pitches that has you wondering why no one else has ever thought it before, rife as it is with the potential for all kinds of anxiety-inducing scenarios. Indeed, you’ll want to be supremely cautious when operating on your clientele here, as they’ll make their dissatisfaction known if you happen to accidentally strike a nerve or carelessly chip a tooth. The consequences of malpractice in Shark Dentist go way beyond tedious litigation and could cost a limb or two.

To avoid ending up on the wrong side of your patient’s jaws, then, you’ll have to master the art of multitasking. That means keeping on top of oxygen levels, successfully administering anaesthesia, choosing the right tools for the job, and generally doing everything you can to avoid rousing the apex predator in your care.

All in all, Shark Dentist promises an extremely high-pressure working environment, and we’re itching to subject ourselves to it!

Shark Dentist is coming soon to PC. You can add it to your Steam wishlist here.

9) Crisol: Theater of Idols

Blumhouse’s diversification into the video game market has yielded mixed results. On the one hand, Fear the Spotlight was a true highlight of 2024 but, on the other,  this year’s SLEEP AWAKE didn’t exactly blow us away.  Here’s hoping then that the publisher’s next offering, Crisol: Theater of Idols, will be closer to the former than it is to the latter. Because it’s definitely got some intriguing concepts.

Set in an alternate universe Spain, the first-person shooter has you battling against malevolent religious effigies that have sprung to life. These foes will take on unique forms, and possess unique abilities, according to the materials that they were fashioned out of. Some are carved from wood, for example, and can survive having their constituent parts blasted off, while others take the form of stained-glass representations or animate oil paintings. Each of them posing a different threat that you’ll have to respond to in a correspondingly different way.

Which brings us nicely to Theater of Idol’s other USP. You see, firearms in this oddball shooter don’t take ordinary bullets and must instead be supplied with human blood. As such, reloading will require you to make a donation from your own vitals, by allowing said weapons to insert needles into your palm so that they can withdraw the sweet ichor they require to function.

With their vampiric nature and clockwork appearance, the guns recall that scarab beetle device from the movie Cronos (in general, we’re getting heavy Guillermo Del Toro vibes from Theater of Idols). Yet this detail is not just a throwaway visual flourish that has no tangible impact on gameplay. On the contrary, it  presents an unusual trade-off whereby you’ll have to sacrifice a portion of your health bar each time you want to reload. We’re not sure we’ve ever encountered that dilemma in an FPS before, and we’re keen to see what implications it has for your combat tactics, your resource management and your fight-or-flight instinct. If nothing else, it ought to incentivise you to make every last shot here count.

Crisol: Theater of Idols will be available on PC, PlayStation 5, and Xbox Series X/S in early 2026. You can download the demo on Steam here. 

8) The Dark Pictures Anthology: Directive 8020

If you’ve been keeping score, you’ll know that Directive 8020 has now smuggled its way into two of our Most Anticipated roundups, having originally featured in the top 10 list for this calendar year. For context, over the summer, developer Supermassive Games bumped their new interactive movie from its original October 2025 release slot to a nebulous “first half of 2026”, which means it’s once again up for consideration.

And, to be frank, there was never a question of us leaving it out! Since it debuted in 2019, The Dark Pictures Anthology has consistently delivered trashy thrills with its choose-your-own-adventure spin on the horror genre, and we’ll happily keep consuming these things as long as they keep making ‘em.

You know the drill by now. There’s always a stock B-movie scenario that unfolds over the course of a single night, and a handful of expendable red-shirts entrusted into your care. Whether these would-be victims make it through their hellish ordeal or not is entirely at your discretion, as you’ll be responsible for their key decision-making in the face of danger. Should you wish to prove your keen survival instincts and genre savvy, then you’ll try to make the smartest choices and lead your charges away from peril. Meanwhile, if like me, you prefer your scary movies to have a decent body count, you’ll do everything in your power to lead these helpless lambs to the slaughter.

Sticking to the established formula, Directive 8020 will supply a fresh batch of cannon fodder for you to toy with. This time in a much more remote, dare we say, alien setting. That’s right, where previous entries in the series have dabbled in the slasher, haunted house, psychological thriller and creature feature sub-genres, this one is taking us to the farthest reaches of outer space for a cosmic bloodbath that’s being pitched as Event Horizon by way of The Thing (“shut up and take my money!” etc.)

As if that radical change of scenery isn’t tantalising enough, the title will also mark the official start of The Dark Pictures Anthology’s new second season, suggesting that it’s going to be much more than just an incremental upgrade. Indeed, Directive 8020 has had far longer in the oven than any of its predecessors (it’s been over 3 years since The Devil in Me came out) and so you can expect some pretty substantial improvements. The new “Turning Point” mechanic, for instance, will allow you to rewind the story at your leisure and try out different branching paths, while there will also be more dynamic gameplay and real-time threats to disrupt the once-tranquil exploration sequences. Hopefully, the end result proves to be worth the elongated wait we’ve had to endure.

The Dark Pictures Anthology: Directive 8020 is set for release in the first half of 2026, and will launch on the Xbox Series X/S, PlayStation 5 and PC. You can add it to your Stream wishlist here.

7) REANIMAL

One of the reasons Directive 8020 is taking so long is that Supermassive want to realise their grand ambitions for this new “Season 2” phase of The Dark Pictures Anthology. Yet we’ve got to acknowledge that they’ve had their fingers in a lot of other pies recently as well. Not only did they partner with Behaviour Interactive for a Dead by Daylight spin-off, The Casting of Frank Stone, but they were also given custody of the Little Nightmares franchise after its original team moved on to greener pastures.

If you’re wondering why the layabouts at Tarsier Studios didn’t make Little Nightmares III, it’s not because they callously decided to bail on their own creation. Rather, it’s all to do with the banalities of copyright ownership and corporate acquisitions. In a nutshell, Tarsier were bought up by a new parent company in 2019, with this deal extending to the studio’s personnel and some of its IP, but crucially not to the flagship series for which it is best known. Now a subsidiary of THQ Nordic (itself a subsidiary of Embracer Group), they can’t work on Little Nightmares anymore. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily stop them from making their own store-brand version of it.

Enter REANIMAL: the video-game equivalent of when your friend’s new partner looks identical to their ex. As with Little Nightmares, this 2.5D platformer is a creepy fairytale with shades of Tim Burton, in which you control a defenceless child trying to make sense of a hostile world inhabited by grotesque adults. All while solving lite-environmental puzzles and surviving by the skin of your teeth in scripted chase sequences and white-knuckle stealth encounters. Funnily enough, Tarsier have also built the game’s levels and interactions around shared-screen coop functionality, which is something that the third Little Nightmares happened to beat them to by a whisker!

Where REANIMAL is looking to distinguish itself from its forbear, however, is with its more violent tone, less linear design and zoological themed beasties. In terms of the latter, we’ve already glimpsed some truly disturbing crossbreeds in the game’s promotional materials, including a harrowing sheep creature that has an elongated neck and multiple humanoid arms. It’s a strikingly imaginative abomination that’s piqued our curiosity for what else this demented world has in store. On the strength of that visual alone, we think this one should be able to escape the shadow of its predecessor and carve out a distinct identity all of its own.

REANIMAL will launch on PC, PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S and Nintendo Switch 2 on 13 February 2026. You can add it to your Steam Wishlist here.

6) The Duskbloods

When the announcement trailer for The Duskbloods was broadcast during spring’s Nintendo Direct, it seemed to almost go out of its way to infuriate those who’ve been clamouring for a Bloodborne follow-up. Taunting us with gothic vibes, towering cathedrals, anachronistic Gatling guns and slender-framed monster hunters dressed in Victorian garb, it perfectly set the stage for our long-awaited return to Yharnam. In an act that could be described as wilfully antagonistic, it even had characters prattling on about “my blood” this and “blood carrier” that. You know, just to really twist the knife in.

Alas, when it was revealed not to be the second-coming of everyone’s favourite action RPG but a totally new property instead, the reaction amongst FromSoftware veterans was polarised to say the least. Many wrote it off as a lame rehash, and that negative sentiment turned sourer still when it later became apparent that the game is going to be a Nintendo Switch 2 exclusive and an online multiplayer affair to boot.

All of which are understandable grievances. But consider this: it’s also got jetpacks and what appears to be summonable T-Rex! With that compelling argument made, let’s not dwell on what The Duskbloods isn’t (i.e. Bloodborne 2 on the PS5) but rather embrace what it is. And what it is, is pretty damn intriguing.

For a start, it’s approaching the PvPvE concept from a novel angle, as everyone will be given separate objectives in the match according to the situation at hand and their selected hero type. In practice, this means one person could be tasked with thinning the herd and taking out their rival “Bloodsworn” (Highlander style) while another could be assigned to protect a particular colleague from said assassin, or to bring down an unrelated A.I. controlled boss that’s minding its own business at the other end of the map. The eventual victor will not necessarily be the last man standing but the person who most effectively carried out their designated duties. In between these unpredictable expeditions, you’ll also get to chill out in an immersive hub zone where you can customise your build further and try your very best to penetrate Hidetaka Miyazaki’s inscrutable lore.

Suffice it to say, there’s no shortage of cool ideas packed into The Duskbloods and it should make for a very distinctive multiplayer dynamic. Let’s be real, though, the main selling point is gonna be that inspired jetpack-dinosaur combo.

The Duskbloods is scheduled for release in 2026, exclusively on the Nintendo Switch 2. 

5) Halloween: The Video Game

Having indulged the seediest power fantasies of horror fans the world over — by allowing us to torment our fellow gamers as Jason Vorhees, the Yautja from Predator and, uh, Fatso the Klown — those enthusiastic gorehounds over at IllFonic will soon have us roleplaying as perhaps cinema’s most enduring boogeyman. As in, the boogeyman!

That’s right, for their next trick, this specialist team (who’ve practically cornered the market on asymmetrical multiplayer) will be granting us the opportunity to don the faded coveralls and iconic spray-painted mask of Michael Myers himself.

Granted, this is a hook that has been seductively dangled before us in the past by a few other titles, including Dead by Daylight and Call of Duty: Ghosts, but it’s fundamentally different when the experience has been crafted from the ground up to accommodate one IP and one IP alone. After all, while those more generic releases were able to capture the superficial qualities of Michael in their respective collabs—   like his silhouette, his heavy breathing and his theme music — they still had to contort him out of shape (pun not intended) to fit pre-existing rules.

Halloween, on the other hand, won’t force the remorseless killing machine to act out of character by, say, keeping his homicidal impulses in check to participate in an arcane ritual or full-on sprinting around in the middle of chaotic deathmatches. On the contrary, he will be permitted to bring his authentic self to the party, with mechanics that emphasise methodical stalking, patient lurking in the shadows, and stealthy kitchen-knife ambushes.

Based on IllFonic’s track record, we can expect this to be a very faithful representation of John Carpenter’s 1978 classic that doesn’t feel like any other asymmetrical offering out there. It will be uniquely Halloween down to its core, with the scope being so narrow that the developers aren’t even flirting with any of the franchise’s sequels, requels or remakes. Rather, the focus will strictly be on capturing the essence of that first fateful night he came home.

Of course, while playing as Michael is inevitably the main draw, that only represents half of the experience. I mean, you can’t have an asym horror without an opposing team of plucky survivors to grief you the whole time, and it seems like IllFonic is going to be shaking things up in that department as well. You see, when taking on the role of a civilian here, your objective won’t just be to flee the area like it normally is. Instead, you’ll be actively running into the heart of danger, trying to raise an alarm and alerting the townspeople of Haddonfield to the encroaching threat that’s on their doorstep. Which is an interesting twist on the usual dynamic, especially as it means there will be some expendable NPCs for slashers to menace.

Halloween is coming to PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, and PC on8  September 2026. You can add it to your Steam wishlist here.

4) Clive Barker’s Hellraiser: Revival

The danger with something like Halloween is that its shelf life is always going to be in doubt. These asymmetrical titles have a habit of peaking early and then haemorrhaging players as soon as the audience gets either: A) bored of repeating the same matches over and over again or B) frustrated with unsportsmanlike conduct from those who’ve learned the dirty exploits. As such, they need a steady drip feed of post-launch support and balancing tweaks in order to remain relevant.

To be fair, IllFonic have covered their backs somewhat here by incorporating a single-player component into Halloween. Yet details about this are currently thin on the ground, and it’s very much being marketed as an ancillary extra, not as the main course.

Conversely, Hellraiser: Revival is a good old-fashioned solo experience through and through, and so can’t be ruined by any tea-bagging dickheads intent on spoiling the fun. And, boy, does it look like this one is gonna be fun!

After a night of kinky bedroom antics goes terribly awry (not to be a prude, but the lament configuration probably isn’t the best sex aid to experiment with) you’ll be forced to take on amorous cultists, infernal demons and, of course, the interdimensional coenobites as you embark on a nightmarish quest to save your girlfriend from eternal damnation. As far as mechanics are concerned, this will entail a potent mix of bone-crunching melee, splattery gunplay, and the sneaky infiltration of a few BDSM orgies. It’s enough to make Frank Cotton blush.

On that note, the project is a collaboration between Boss Team Games, Saber Interactive, and original series creator Clive Barker, with the latter’s involvement all but guaranteeing that Revival will stay true to the sinful spirit of Hellraiser proper. The initial teasers certainly indicate that it’s going to be every bit as lurid and transgressive as that source material anyway, with gory violence and explicit scenes aplenty, as well as moments that’ll have you partaking in a spot of sadomasochistic depravity. During one blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sequence in the latest trailer, it seems that the game might even transition from being a first-person shooter into a first-person spanker at some point!

Encouragingly, Saber has confirmed that they’ll not be backing down when it comes to any of this NSFW content and that they are committed to pushing the ESRB’s mature rating as far as it will allow them to go. Which is exactly kind of boundary-pushing, morality-flouting ethos that Pinhead himself would approve of.

Clive Barker’s Hellraiser: Revival is currently in development for PC, PlayStation 5 and the Xbox Series X/S. You can add it to your Steam wishlist here.

3) Jurassic Park: Survival

Six years ago, I wrote an editorial about how — piggybacking off the nascent success of Resident Evil’s revival — the time was ripe for another Capcom property to stage a comeback. Specifically, I made the case for a Dino Crisis update that would take advantage of then-emerging trends and go down the helpless horror route. In short, my pitch was Alien: Isolation if you swapped out the Xenomorph for a Velociraptor and thrust us into an 8-hour version of that indelible kitchen scene from Jurassic Park.

Alas, as of 2025, Capcom has continued to sleep on Dino Crisis, while many indie developers have tried gamely stepping up to the plate in their absence (producing such titles as Deathground and PALEOPHAGE). Jurassic Park: Survival ought to be the one that really satisfies my craving, though, as it’s got the combined might of Universal, Amblin, and Steven-fucking-Spielberg iconography behind it.

Apparently not stimulated enough with adapting Hellraiser, the busy bees over at Saber Interactive will be delivering this slice of millennial wish fulfilment, in which you’ll play as an Ingen scientist who was left to fend for themselves on Isla Nublar, after John Hammond’s amusement park enterprise suffered its disastrous trial run. As the name suggests, your ultimate goal will be to survive the island’s various threats (both natural and unnatural) by using your wits, keeping a low profile and doing an awful lot of cardio.

Much like the genetically engineered beasties that you’ll be cowering from in its campaign, Jurassic Park: Survival might as well have been synthesised in a lab to appeal to me. Not only is it dino horror, but the developers have raided Universal’s archives to study production stills, examine blueprints and scrutinise props from the original 1993 Oscar-winner in order to ensure that their art-direction is spot-on.

You’ll therefore be exploring uncanny recreations of sets like the visitor centre, the incubation room and the Mr. D.N.A. theatre, while also visiting brand new locales that have never been glimpsed before (including attractions that were abandoned mid-construction). I’m not gonna lie,  there’s a bit in the latest trailer that implies you’ll be able to flip the power switches in the maintenance shed, and my euphoric reaction to this could only be compared to that of a five-year-old seeing the Disneyland castle for the very first time.

In a behind-the-scenes featurette, creative director Oliver Hollis-Leick even confirmed the title will finally realise that one hyper-specific scenario I wanted from Dino Crisis all those years ago, teasing: “When we were deciding how to introduce the raptors, one thing that jumped out to us was: ‘What if we could make the player experience what Lex and Tim did in the kitchen.”

If they can indulge that fantasy of mine, as well as giving me a solid T-Rex encounter wherein I have to work around the prehistoric creature’s vision-based movement, then I’ll be ready to declare this GOTY at launch. Dino Crisis is dead, long live Dino Crisis.

Jurassic Park: Survival is slated for launch on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, and PC. A 2026 release date has not yet been officially announced, but can’t a manchild dream? Add it to your Steam Wishlist here.

2) Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly Remake

The founding fathers of survival horror have been enjoying a second wind lately. Sure, Alone in the Dark’s attempt at a comeback didn’t quite take off in the way Embracer might have hoped, but Silent Hill and Resident Evil are the healthiest they’ve been for decades. If we can just get Fatal Frame back on its feet, then it’ll be like the glory days of the sixth console generation never went away.

For context, Koei Tecmo’s series (alternatively known in some territories as Project Zero) has lain dormant for quite a while. Its last mainline installment, the tepidly received Maiden of Black Water, came out on the Wii U back in 2014 and, ever since then, the catalogue has been comprised of nothing but a string of ports and inessential remasters.

Before committing any significant resource to churning out proper sequels, then, it’s a sensible move on Temco’s part to gauge contemporary interest in the brand. And what better way is there to do that than by giving its most popular entry a fresh coat of paint?

Indeed, a Crimson Butterfly remake is surely the shrewdest course of action available to the franchise right now, as it’d be a spectacularly hard thing to mess up. If you’ve not played the original (which follows a pair of twins trapped in a spooky village haunted by petrifying revenants), it’s often cited as a benchmark in the genre, praised for everything from its subtle J-horror stylings to its compelling lore, cultural flavour, and peerless sense of dread. The Last of Us director Neil Druckmann once described it as “the scariest kind of experience in any medium”, admitting that he had to power through it in bite-sized chunks because he simply couldn’t handle the intensity.  So, you know, it’s one to check off your bucket list if you haven’t already!

Speaking of which, the upcoming remake is going to be the ideal opportunity to dive in and see what all the fuss is about when it comes to Fatal Frame II, as it will be a complete overhaul that gives the cult classic a new lease of life (similar to what Bloober Team did with their update of SH2). Among other things, it’ll boast modernised controls, slicker visuals, improved audio, and even some mechanical innovations related to the title’s signature Camera Obscura gimmick.

If it manages to do all of that while still retaining what made the PS2 original so revered, then we could find ourselves in the privileged position where Resident Evil, Silent Hill, and now Fatal Frame are all back on their A-game. And that’ll be a wonderful time to be a survival horror fan!

Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly Remake is coming to Nintendo Switch 2, PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, and PC  on 12 March 2026. You can pre-order it on Steam now.

1) Resident Evil: Requiem 

What else could feasibly take the top spot in our list? Resident Evil: Requiem is to 2026’s line-up of horror games what Avengers: Doomsday is to the upcoming superhero movie slate. It’s the titanic behemoth around which everything else has to manoeuvre, so as not to get trampled beneath its feet. I mean, imagine being another horror title that comes out during the same month as this (sorry REANIMAL)!

Resident Evil has been on a hot streak ever since the galvanizing RE7: Biohazard executed a much-needed course correction back in 2017. In the intervening years, we’ve had the spectacular Village, as well as a procession of surprisingly excellent remakes for some of the saga’s best-loved entries. Whether you favour traditional Resi — with its legacy characters, T-virus-infected monsters, Raccoon City setting,  and third-person camera — or prefer the newer direction that’s been taken by the Ethan Winter’s chronicles —  built around an everyman hero, humanoid stalkers, more intimate, gothic environments and a first-person perspective that puts you in the middle of the frights — there’s been something for everyone in this post-revival era.

Requeim is trying to pull off quite an audacious feat, however, by weaving those disparate halves together and catering to both fans of the old and new school approaches. So, we’ve got a fresh-faced protagonist whose lineage goes back to the days of the Umbrella incident, George Romero style zombies sharing the screen with another giantess stalker (whose got a few inches on Lady Dumitrescu), the ability to cycle between first and third-person gameplay on a whim, and an intimate gothic setting that happens to be situated within the obliterated ruins of Raccoon City. An agreeable compromise all round!

It remains to be seen if these elements will coalesce or clash, but there haven’t been any major red flags thus far. In fact, early word from those who’ve played the demo has been resoundingly positive, with praise being heaped on the sumptuous visuals, legitimately intense encounters, intricate level design, and the way that the hybrid camera innovation changes how you can perceive the horror.

Speaking of which, even as just passive observers of the demo footage, we can tell that Capcom are really doubling down on the scares here. We might have only seen 15 minutes of real gameplay, but we’re impressed all the same. The adversary relentlessly pursuing you around the world (who bears more than a passing resemblance to that deformed bug woman from the movie Cobweb) looks to be a worthy addition to Resident Evil’s iconic rogues gallery, and the moments wherein she lunges out of the darkness — intent on rending you limb from limb — evoke memories of our exhilarating time in House Beneviento. And, for all we know, she’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Suffice it to say, the 27th of February can’t come soon enough!

Resident Evil: Requiem will release for Nintendo Switch 2, PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S and PC on 27 February 2026. You can pre-order it on Steam now.

The post Bloody Disgusting’s 10 Most Anticipated Horror Games of 2026 appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Almost every installment in the series of late seems to have dealt with some variation on the same basic theme. There’s always a condemned sinner embarking on a literal guilt trip through their own psyche — subjected along the way to symbolic punishments and living manifestations of their innermost demons — while the narrative beats and core gameplay mechanics have similarly been rehashed to the point of losing their edge. Hell, even the metaphorical creatures that once represented the very specific anxieties of very specific characters have been repurposed as one-size-fits-all boogeymen (apparently, everyone in the state of Maine has a hang-up that can in some way be embodied by bubblehead nurses).

By distancing itself from this stale formula, Silent Hill f has been a much-needed breath of fresh air. It’s still authentic to its roots — upholding series traditions like that obligatory low-lying cloud, a light world/ dark world dichotomy, separate difficulty settings for puzzles and combat, monsters ripped straight from the protagonist’s Id, and a jokey UFO ending — but it crucially shakes things up in some bold, exciting ways.

Relocating the action from contemporary small-town America to rural Japan (circa the 1960s) is the most obvious deviation, and one that has a pronounced ripple effect on everything from the game’s riddles to its world-building, its enemy design and its visual aesthetic. But then there’s also the way that developer NeoBards Entertainment inches us closer to Soulsbourne territory: placing a distinct emphasis on melee combat; reflex-testing boss battles; and lite RPG systems.

In fact, there are so many innovations and strange new twists for the franchise in Silent Hill f that we didn’t manage to cover them all in our review. We only made a passing, veiled reference, for example, to the part where you are ritualistically mutilated and turned into some kind of fox deity with godlike powers (including a Kratos-esque rage mode). In any other game, that wouldn’t be something that you could casually skim over, yet there’s so much to dissect with this title that it didn’t even crack the top five talking points for us.

However, the most glaring omission from our review — that we skirted around for spoiler reasons —  was surely Silent Hill f‘s unique approach to New Game Plus. Because NeoBards are doing some very interesting things with that concept.

Growing Up Sucks

It should go without saying, but any discussion of how Silent Hill f continues beyond its end credits is going to be inherently spoiler-filled. After all, we’re not just talking about the merits of replayability here, or the usual power trip that comes with retaining all your upgrades in a video game’s second go around, but rather how the story is fundamentally incomplete until you’ve gone through it at least a couple of times. Kind of similar to how it works in Nier: Automata.

With that said, short of transcribing the script in its entirety, it’d be hard for me to spoil NeoBard’s new release any more thoroughly than I am about to. So, consider yourself forewarned!

As a quick recap, Silent Hill f follows a young highschooler by the name of Hinako Shimizu, as she navigates the growing pains of an especially brutal adolescence. Since entering puberty, she’s had to contend with: increased scrutiny from conservative elders disapproving of her “unladylike” conduct; controlling behaviour from a patriarchal father prone to violent outbursts; cruel treatment at the hands of female peers who envy her effortless good looks; and unwanted attention from the hormonal boys and adult men in her life.

These teenage woes would be bad enough for most young women. Yet the awkward years are proving to be uniquely challenging for Hinako, on account of a few extra supernatural stresses that are weighing her mind down even further.

You see, one fateful morning, our protagonist wakes up to discover that her hometown of Ebisugaoka has been enveloped in a paranormal mist and that its populace has vanished off the face of the earth. With the exception of her friendship group —  and dysfunctional family unit —  every single resident of the municipality has been unaccountably raptured and swapped out for petrifying creatures that appear to represent Hinako’s subconscious anxieties.

Examples include feminine homunculi that have been stitched together from the most perfect body parts (in a pretty blatant metaphor for impossible beauty standards), a potbellied gremlin that has sweaty palms, a drooling tongue and a notable fixation on young girls (like the horny old men of Ebisugaoka), as well as a hideous, swollen beast that appears to be in excruciating agony as it continually pumps out legions of spawn (gee, I wonder what that could represent for a woman who is coming of age).

Anyway, Hinako is understandably determined to flee this nightmare-infested ghost town and so hatches an escape plan. Of course, that turns out to be easier said than done, given that she keeps involuntarily slipping into a parallel dark world that has dangers of its own. These intermittent, out-of-body pitstops see her utterly isolated and cut off from her support network, as she gradually progresses through an ethereal shrine towards an uncertain future, beckoned ever onwards by a mysterious stranger wearing a fox mask.

Now, depending on how closely you are paying attention to Hinako’s journal and the various collectible documents strewn around the game, the exact point at which you realise what’s going on here could vary. But to make a very long story short, the gist is that Hinako is being forced into an arranged marriage in order to help clear her parents’ crippling debt. And she’s hardly ecstatic about it. Indeed, to her, the prospect of forthcoming wedlock is akin to a death sentence looming over her head.

The portions of the game that take place in this otherworldly plane are therefore allegorical for Hinako’s current predicament. The various rituals that the “Fox Man” (a stand-in for her betrothed) puts you through entail things like stripping away one’s identity until there is nothing left, abandoning childhood friends to the abyss, and surrendering free will in service of somebody else’s happiness. It doesn’t take an expert in Jungian theory to get to the bottom of what this could all mean for an engaged teenager with a particularly bad case of cold feet.

Is That It?

To put it mildly, then, an awful lot is going on with poor Hinako. Between her abusive domestic situation, her friends all turning their backs on her when she needed them most, the repressive gender norms of the time, and her being sold off as some kind of child bride, it’s enough to warrant a mental health day. Yet she is surprisingly well adjusted, all things considered.

Or so we’re led to believe. You see, the ending of your first playthrough of Silent Hill f casts the story in a whole new light. Mere minutes before the credits roll, we learn that Hinako has not been coping with these mounting pressures at all and that she, in fact, suffered a mental collapse not too long ago.

While her family and friends were hoping that marriage would be the answer to all her issues, platonic guy pal (and aspiring physician) Shu prescribed a very different panacea. It turns out his solution was to simply ply her with red capsule pills —  the game’s standard health item —  in the hope that it would somehow calm her nerves.

However, this remedy had quite the opposite of its intended effect, with Hinako quickly developing an addiction to these little helpers, overdosing on them and suffering a nervous breakdown at her own wedding ceremony, whereupon she proceeded to massacre all the guests. The implication being that we’ve been playing through said psychotic episode this entire time. Once this devastating information has been revealed, we then watch as Hinako drowns in a literal tsunami of pills, before the screen abruptly cuts to black, “Sopranos” style.

It’s a dissatisfying ending that leaves a lot up in the air, and you’d be forgiven for feeling shortchanged if those are the despairing circumstances you leave our protagonist in. Yet the game has been so methodical in its plotting up until that jarring curveball, that you know there has to be more to it and so jump back in for round two.

Should you commit to seeing through that follow-up attempt, then your persistence will be richly rewarded.

Making Sense Out of Madness

It’s only when you make your return trip to Ebisugaoka that the narrative pieces of Silent Hill f start to click into place.

If you’ve experienced it for yourself, you’ll know that the summary above is heavily streamlined and joins up dots that aren’t connected for you outright by writer Ryukishi07. Indeed, it’s only when you revisit key scenes on a subsequent playthrough that you can wrap your head around what the fuck is going on with that dark shrine subplot, or why there are two separate versions of Hinako knocking about.

With the benefit of hindsight, though, you can start to figure it all out. Case in point, it becomes apparent that the game’s stalker enemy —  a doppelganger of our heroine that’s transformed into a giant fox garbed in a wedding gown —  is a projection of Hinako’s belief that she will ultimately have to “kill” her child self in order to become a proper trad-wife. That’s why it only ever appears when she’s retreating into juvenile comforts, like hanging out with friends outside their regular haunts, and why it doggedly hunts all of the Ebisugaoka school kids that keep her anchored to the past.

The knowledge that Hinako has been promised to someone against her will, and that she sees this marriage as a kind of impending spiritual death, will also inform how you interpret other parts of the tale. It explains why all your interactions with Shu have such a heart-wrenching sense of finality to them, for instance, and why there are anxiety-inducing clocks ticking away in every room that you enter (serving as a depressing countdown to the simpler, good all days coming to an end).

But it’s not just a case of you appreciating the context behind these clues more on a repeat playthrough. On the contrary, NeoBards actually do give you additional information during New Game Plus that you sort of need to get the full picture. Extended cutscenes contain crucial dialogue that wasn’t there before, there are way more documents to help fill in the gaps of character motivations, and having earlier access to key items enables you to travel to areas that were previously blocked off.  Not to mention, a treasure-hunting side quest is introduced, in which you must follow the trail of a missing folklorist, which puts you on the right track for a more triumphant resolution.

By drip-feeding extra content in this way, the developers put you in the shoes of a character who’s gradually starting to confront their repressed traumas and coming to terms with the reality of their situation. Hell, I don’t think anyone openly addresses the wedding dilemma at all in your inaugural run, but it certainly gets a lot of attention in playthrough #2.

It’s a gutsy decision from a creative standpoint, because you can imagine a lot of gamers never getting to that stage and just checking out after getting their trophy for “completing” the experience. Probably with a rather sour taste in their mouth.

You gotta respect how they stuck to their guns here and weren’t afraid to potentially leave some audience members behind. It makes it all the more gratifying for those who do stick around to earn the catharsis.

Just Say “No”

Besides clearing up the mystery and giving you some bonus routes to explore, Silent Hill f’s New Game Plus does something else that’s really, really unique.

In any other title, the appeal of this mode would be that you get to indulge in a therapeutic power trip, exploiting all of the late-game upgrades and resources you’ve acquired to lay waste to early-game foes. Take Resident Evil 4, for instance, in which you can cockily return to the village after completing the campaign and proceed to trivialise the whole affair with the help of an infinite rocket launcher. It turns that once-terrifying siege level into an absolute cake walk!

And that’s a pretty standard model for horror NG+ modes, as also seen in releases like Dead Space and its recent homage: Cronos: The New Dawn. The idea is that you’ve already done the scary part and so, as a reward for your bravery, now get to turn the tables on all those gnarly beasties that once had you quaking in your boots.

Silent Hill f does things a little differently, though. Sure, you get to hold onto your Omamori charms and any upgrades you’ve made to Hinako’s health, stamina and sanity meters are preserved. Yet, despite those advantages, the act of survival gets counterintuitively tougher on your second attempt, not easier.

What’s so interesting about this is that it’s for a narrative-driven reason, as opposed to a gameplay one. You see, after being treated to the downer ending that you’re locked into on your first run, you’ll want to avoid those aforementioned capsule pills like the plague. Because you now know that they are the root cause of all of Hinako’s suffering.

Heading over to the “Endings” screen on the main menu will confirm this, as you learn that not taking a single tablet is indeed the best option for netting a more desirable outcome to her story. After all, going completely cold turkey is a necessary requirement to unlock an even vaguely optimistic ending.

So, now you’ve got to fundamentally change your playstyle, resisting the urge to pop a pill whenever you take damage. Which is a hard part of the brain for a horror gamer to rewire, as we’re conditioned to prioritise our avatar’s vitals above all else. I mean, imagine not scoffing down a baguette whenever you’re hit by a zombie in Dead Rising, or choosing to swear off green herbs in perpetuity as you battle through the streets of Raccoon City. It’d take the utmost discipline and restraint!

Yet that’s effectively what Silent Hill f demands if you want Hinako to kick her nasty addiction. The little red capsules that were once such a welcome sight end up taking on an ominous quality as a result, and you realise that they are pushed on you at every conceivable turn. Almost as if the town of Ebisugaoka is trying to get you to relapse.

What originally seemed like an overgenerous distribution of health items on the developer’s part  (I had more than I ever needed on my first go around) is now revealed to be a deliberate taunt. As soon as you’re actively trying to avoid them, you can’t help but notice that the pills are distributed in every other crevice you search, foregrounded in every room you enter, and left seductively in plain view just when the temptation to cave is at its strongest.

It’s an ingenious twist, turning something that is supposed to be a source of comfort into a sinister presence. Never before has a horror title made me want to steer clear of medical treatment in this way (other than in Resident Evil 5, when the A.I. controlled hypochondriac Sheva would make a beeline towards me every time I so much as grazed my fucking knee, intending to waste a precious first-aid spray on the minor boo-boo).

The other cool thing is that, with you no longer able to rely on the capsules, you suddenly have to engage with all of Silent Hill f’s other consumables. If you’re anything like me, you probably just outright dismissed these before and exchanged them for faith points to upgrade Hinako. After all, you would have been fully onboard with the pharmaceuticals back then and pills could be found in plentiful abundance, so there was no reason to hoard expendable crap when it could instead be sold for XP.

Unlike capsules, the traditional Japanese remedies that you’ll come to depend on in future runs —   including Arare, Kudzu Tea, Inari Sushi and, uh, chocolate —  all apply subtly different status effects. They might heal you over time, become more effective with stacked usage, or fully replenish given meters. You must therefore consider which one is right for the situation at hand, and carefully keep track of your reserves, adding a further layer of strategy to the combat that goes beyond just “mash triangle to pop more pills.”

All in all, Silent Hill f’s take on New Game Plus is more than just an excuse to breeze through the campaign again with overpowered abilities and superior resources. Rather, it’s an essential component of the experience that deepens everything from the characterisation to the themes, the narrative, the gameplay mechanics and the horror. So, if you’ve only finished the adventure once, make sure to dive back in. The best stuff is yet to come.

Silent Hill f is out now on for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series and PC via Steam.

The post How New Game Plus in ‘Silent Hill f’ Adds So Much to the Entire Experience appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

In case you’re not aware, the whole shtick of this indie puzzle-platformer is that it’s been painstakingly drawn by hand, with the talented illustrators over at Little Sewing Machine employing old-school techniques to produce everything the eye can see here. That includes the detailed character sprites, the expressive NPC animations, all of the interactable assets, and the lavish environments that you’ll be exploring over the course of your 6–7 hour adventure. Suffice it to say, the end result is consistently impressive, and you can tell that real blood, sweat and tears (as well as long, long manhours) went into bringing this pencil-sketched diegesis to life.

But more important than it just looking pretty is the fact that it’s an instantly reassuring aesthetic for anyone who’s been weaned on the classic animated flicks of yesteryear. Indeed, if you squint hard enough, you could almost be fooled into thinking that Bye Sweet Carole is some long-lost Disney princess movie that never got released from the company’s vault. And not one of those slick CGI takes on the genre that dominate multiplexes nowadays, but something much closer in spirit to the works of the medium’s oft-touted “golden age”. You know, the kind of artisanal projects that Walt himself would have overseen back when he was calling the shots (ala Bambi, Cinderella or Pinocchio).

This evocation of childhood favourites begins from almost the very second that you hit the start button, as a sweeping overture ushers you into a gorgeous, watercolour landscape that looks like it could have been ripped straight from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It’s an utterly transfixing frame and one that calibrates your expectations for a very specific kind of fairytale plot — seemingly teeing up those familiar tropes of chivalry, enchantment and true love’s kiss that we’re all well acquainted with.

Simulating the look of a multiplane tracking shot, the camera then glides over this lush rural scene towards a stately home sat atop a verdant hill, through that building’s ornate windows and towards a storybook that suddenly flickers to life (as if manipulated by Neverland fairy-dust). As you’d expect, we’re then whisked into the pages of this tome to begin our narrative proper. It’s all very traditional place setting that’d feel right at home on the House of Mouse’s popular streaming service.

With our framing device now established, we’re promptly introduced to our plucky heroine (and playable character): Lana Benton. Blessed with the rosiest of cheeks, immaculately styled hair and striking doe eyes, she certainly looks the part of an archetypal maiden fair and ticks the rest of the fairytale protagonist boxes as well.

Not only is she an orphan with a deep affinity for woodland critters (watched over by a trio of primary-coloured songbirds that recall Sleeping Beauty’s feathered friends) but, when we meet her, she’s lost in a state of wistful daydreaming by a babbling brook. It’s such a quintessential Disney princess moment that it feels like she’s all but guaranteed to burst into her obligatory “I want” ballad at any given minute.

Yet before that anticipated Broadway number has a chance to kick in, Lana is distracted by a bespectacled bunny that entices her into the nearby forest. If you know your Victorian literature, you might think you can tell where this is all going. But don’t get ahead of yourself!

You see, instead of leading Lana down the rabbit hole and into a fantastical wonderland of charm and whimsy, this mischievous Lepus sets her on a much darker path. Towards a realm of hideous monsters, possessive suitors, intense psychological torment, and repressed pain brought kicking and screaming to the surface.

It’s then that you realise Little Sewing Machine has well and truly pulled the rug (or, perhaps more appropriately, the magic carpet) out from under you, and that this ain’t gonna be your typical fairytale romance after all.

A Whole New World

Granted, those iconic Disney outings from the ‘30s and ‘40s that Bye Sweet Carole is invoking had their share of traumatising material too. Lest we forget Dumbo’s surrealistic encounter with the pink elephants, Fantasia’s no-holds-barred “Night on Bald Mountain” sequence, the Evil Queen’s terrifying metamorphosis into an old hag in Snow White, or that one bit in Pinocchio where a bunch of kids are turned into braying mules and sold into slave labour.

Yet while you can’t (in good faith) accuse these older films of pulling their punches, the light does outweigh the dark in every single instance. They were primarily intended for family viewing, after all, and so a big part of their tacit promise to the audience was that a “happily ever after” was always going to be just around the corner. No matter how tough things might get for the protagonists.

Bye Sweet Carole, on the other hand, welches on that deal, offering only brief flashes of hope and catharsis in a story that is, otherwise, pretty damn bleak. Even its somewhat compassionate resolution merely serves to soften the blow of an emotionally devastating reveal that precedes it, while the best solace it can offer to its lead heroine is a bittersweet moral lesson about coming to terms with tragedy.

To be absolutely clear, then, this is not the comforting princess fable that it initially presents itself to be, so much as it is a twisted mockery of one. A psychological horror that has sliced the face off another hand-drawn fantasy, stapled that bloody mess to its own kisser, and now parades it around as some kind of ghoulish skin mask with which to frighten small children.

Exploiting its appealing art style to catch you off guard, before then plunging headfirst into seriously adult territory, the game is proof of that old adage that appearances can be deceiving. In fact, it’s got far more in common with the giallo-inflected Perfect Blue than it does the cheery musical stylings of Frozen, as it unflinchingly deals with themes of internalised misogyny, psychosis, obsession, subjugation, child abuse, loss and the unrelenting march of time. Not to mention, it also chucks in some very distressing imagery along the way that’s liable to get under your skin (trigger warning for rabbit lovers: you’ll need to brace yourself for Watership Down levels of upset here).

Those Poor Unfortunate Souls

Set at a nebulous point in the early twentieth century — against the backdrop of the British industrial revolution and the onset of the suffragette movement — the title has you taking control of the young Lana, as she investigates her friend Carole’s mysterious disappearance from the austere orphanage of Bunny Hall.

Trapped within this highly conservative all-girls institution herself, she’s not exactly having the most enjoyable adolescence. For a start, her peers are spiteful and unusually cruel in their treatment of anyone who doesn’t conform to societal norms. Meanwhile, free thinking is similarly discouraged by the scolding matrons who routinely subject Lana to oppressive etiquette lessons, are very prescriptive in their definitions of ladylike behaviour, and repeatedly hammer home the notion that finding a suitable husband is — and should be — the sum total of a young woman’s aspirations. Oh, and she’s not even allowed to venture outside anymore, on account of the surrounding estate being bombarded by incessant explosions (as part of some ongoing rabbit disinfestation campaign).

The one source of joy Lana has ever had in this miserable life was Carole, and so she is understandably determined to find out what happened to her. The chief suspects in her inquiry include Bunny Hall’s furtive groundskeeper Frank — who is already the subject of many urban legends amongst pupils — the stern Ms. Hinman — who seems intent on downplaying any evidence related to Carole’s whereabouts — and an eerie hooded figure dressed in a yellow raincoat whom Lana keeps glimpsing as she tiptoes around the boarding school at night.

As if this real-world intrigue weren’t enough, there’s also a quasi-Pan’s Labyrinth thing going on, with supernatural creatures intruding upon Lana’s mundane existence to inform her that she is, in fact, the amnesiac royalty of a faraway kingdom. Alas, not all of the subjects from this domain want to see their princess return to the throne safely, and she soon finds herself being pursued by a petrifying Crooked Man-esque usurper named “Mr. Kyn” who wishes to rule in her stead. Over the course of the ensuing journey, you’re never fully certain what is real, if Lana is going to turn out to be a reliable narrator, or if this is all just an elaborate fantasy that she has concocted in her mind to escape some depressing truth.

It’s a compelling premise that’s bursting with imagination, and you’d be surprised how well the disparate pieces all fit together by the time you reach the game’s denouement. There’s genuine pathos to the characters, a ton of original ideas, and daring exploration of some heady themes.

That being said, the script is a tad on-the-nose when it comes to spelling out its socio-political messaging in a way that leaves vanishingly little room for interpretation. In particular, it’s got an annoying habit of slipping into lengthy, heavy-handed monologues about how Victorian society needs to enforce feminine ideals in order to prop-up its patriarchy, the various different ways in which marriage can be used as a tool to cage wilful women, and the fact that the men of the era can only perceive of the opposite sex as things to be either tamed or owned.

All of which are valid observations to be sure, but they could be made more elegantly than they are here, instead of just having the cast literally saying it all out loud like they’re trying to score extra credit in an English lit class. Bye Sweet Carole’s heart is certainly in the right place. However, it doesn’t help that it’s releasing so close to the outstanding Silent Hill f, which has a surprising amount of thematic overlap with Little Sewing Machine’s title and makes some very similar points (albeit in a much more nuanced, subtler way).

I just think writer-director Chris Darril could have trusted his audience to follow what he was trying to convey without fussily insisting on holding our hands the entire time. There’s one clever visual metaphor during a ballroom sequence, for instance, that the voiceover narration kind of ruins by (ironically enough) mansplaining its significance. In my opinion, this impulse to overexplain everything just betrays a lack of confidence on the storyteller’s part. Which is a shame, because he’s got a good strong narrative here, with good strong ideas. He just needed to have more faith in them.

Indeed, I was quite gripped by the overarching yarn Darril was weaving and even found myself rather moved by its final few moments. The way it dramatizes the struggle to move on from grief is especially poignant and will stick with you, even after some of the more didactic speechifying has faded from memory.

The Fairest Game of Them All

Of course, the main draw (pun not intended) for most people interested in checking out Bye Sweet Carole will be its phenomenal art style. Much like how Studio MDHR’s Cuphead masterfully captured the look & feel of ragtime-era cartoons, this production resembles a cel-animated feature from the golden age of Disney, complete with fluid motion, rich colours, soft gradient lighting, and faux multiplane photography that gives its 2D environments the convincing illusion of depth.

It’s a very authentic homage, and you’ll find yourself compelled to put the controller down from time to time so that you can stop and gawp at all the breathtaking images. The painterly backdrops (which range from vibrant countryside vistas to stunning gothic interiors) will inevitably get the lion’s share of attention, with the spectacular cutscenes coming in a firm second place. Yet the incredible kineticism of the characters deserves a shoutout as well.

Indeed, the sprites all feel very much alive in gameplay. Whether you’re scrutinising an enemy’s patrol, performing some dexterous platforming, or simply allowing Lana’s idle cycle to run its course, their movements are all expressive and flow nicely into one another. There are bespoke animations for different outfits, for trudging through water, for shimmying along precarious ledges, and for being attacked by different creatures. Not to mention, there are a few context-specific “game-over” cinematics that are so well done you’ll almost want to get Lana killed on purpose, just to make sure that not a single frame of them goes unappreciated.

The character designs are also uniformly top-notch. Again, they wouldn’t feel out of place in Snow White or Pinocchio, what with their strong silhouettes and distinguishing features that tell you everything you need to know about the larger-than-life personalities to whom they belong. As mentioned up top, Lana could easily pass for a Disney princess, while the rest of the supporting cast fit the bill too.

The pop-culture referencing Mr. Baesie — whose rubber hose limbs and slapstick antics provide a great contrast to the more realistically proportioned characters — is a worthy tribute to other shapeshifting comic reliefs like Aladdin’s genie. Meanwhile, there are several menacing adversaries for you to contend with.

You’ve got the main big bad Mr. Kyn: a spindly, top-hatted bogeyman that’s guaranteed to set your hairs on end. Then there’s his avian lieutenant, Velenia: a malevolent owl that takes on an uncannily-human physiognomy when shrouded in a veil and perched upon a pair of stilts. And perhaps most intimidating of all is the startling Ms. Fisherin: a rabid anthropomorphic bunny that wants to cave you’re skull in with a meat tenderiser!

They’re all great antagonists who could give the likes of Maleficent or Captain Hook a run for their money in the villain department. And it helps that they’re not given a chance to outstay their welcome, because they’re largely confined to appearing in just one level each.

One Jump, Ahead of the Monsters

Speaking of which, Bye Sweet Carole is neatly divided into ten bite-sized chapters that have their own unique settings, enemies and mechanical gimmicks. So, there’s no danger of it ever getting stale!

The experience can broadly be described as a puzzle-platformer with horror elements but, honestly, it’s quite hard to classify because the game has so many different facets. The tutorial, for instance, makes it seem like you’re in for a straightforward experience in the vein of Limbo — wherein you are pursued through linear stages by threats that can kill you with a mere touch — only for the very next level to introduce a complex adventure-game scenario that has you backtracking between areas and trying to figure out how to solve a series of interconnected, escape-room riddles.

After that, the third chapter confronts you with a patrolling stalker that you must evade at all costs, and it turns into an intense Clock Tower pastiche for roughly 30 minutes. Suddenly you’re forced to use stealth, hiding spots and a breath-holding mechanic so as not to give your position away.

As soon as you’ve had a chance to get used to that helpless horror dynamic, though, the developers change the rules on you yet again by giving you the ability to fight back and indulging in an extended hack-and-slash gauntlet. And then, there’s an ingenious time travel section that has you switching back and forth between distant epochs in order to obtain assorted key items that you need to progress.

Lots of points for variety then. Hell, there’s even a segment where it decides to become a rhythm action game seemingly on a whim! But it’s crucially more than just a case of the developers throwing a bunch of stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks. On the contrary, these surprising mechanics are all introduced at the moment that makes most sense for them in the story and are sufficiently fleshed out in their own right.

The puzzles are probably the most substantial bits, however. In addition to the standard adventure game headscratchers (you know, the kind where you’ve got to figure out how a mechanical mouse, some poker chips, a punch bowl and a rabbit’s foot are supposed to help you get past an overzealous doorman), there are also some logic problems that will require you to coordinate the simultaneous movements of Lana and her trusty sidekick Baesie. The former can transform into a bunny to squeeze through tiny crevices and leap over tall objects, whereas the latter can either electrify of immolate himself depending on what the situation calls for.

To spoil how these abilities complement each other would be a disservice to the clever challenges that Little Sewing Machine have devised here. Suffice it to say, there are some very satisfying “eureka” moments scattered throughout Bye Sweet Carole, and I never once felt like the solutions were too easy or too obtuse. Rather, they hit that Goldilocks sweet spot 90% of the time.

The only real downside to the gameplay is that it can occasionally verge on frustrating when the game wants you to do something hyper-specific and punishes you with an instant fail state if you aren’t able to intuit that desired course of action within a nanosecond. There was one particular sequence involving a murderous doll that, although initially creepy, really started to try my patience for that exact reason. Luckily, the checkpoints are distributed generously enough that death never sets you back too far, and you can always resort to good old-fashioned trial and error to overcome a barrier.

Small niggles like that aside, Bye Sweet Carole is an excellent title bursting with artistry. We haven’t even mentioned the stellar orchestral score by Luca Balboni, which nails the sound of those rousing Alan Menken compositions that defined the likes of The Hunchback of Notre Dame or Beauty and the Beast. So, if you’re in that niche target audience of people who like survival horror, meaty brainteasers, classic Disney animation or preferably all three, then this is one twisted fairytale that you won’t wanna miss.

Bye Sweet Carole will release on PlayStation 5, Nintendo Switch, Xbox Series, and PC via Steam on 9th October. Review code provided by publisher.

The post ‘Bye Sweet Carole’ Charms with Its Classical Animation Combined with Dark Fantasy [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Full disclosure, as is the case for many horror geeks my age, Silent Hill means a great deal to me. Watching my dad play through the PSOne debut, hunched over a small CRT television in our living room, was a formative experience that awakened me to a whole new world of genre literature, movies and virtual entertainment that I would go on to voraciously consume.

Meanwhile, its 2001 sequel opened my mind even wider to the unique possibilities for artistic expression in video games, even if I wasn’t quite pretentious enough to articulate those thoughts at the time (I’d eventually get around to writing a conceited university dissertation on the subject 15 years later). And when every last trace of the sublime P.T. was expunged from the PlayStation Store, I went into a period of inconsolable mourning from which I have still yet to emerge.

The point is, if you’re harbouring any doubts about my credentials to review a new Silent Hill installment, then rest assured that I love this IP as deeply as anyone else. But loving something deeply and loving it blindly are seldom the same act. And if we’re being brutally honest with ourselves, the ratio of good Silent Hill media to bad Silent Hill media these days is not exactly favourable.

Thematically on-brand as it may be for this series, I don’t want to pick at old wounds too much here. Suffice it to say, ever since the promising Hideo Kojima and Guillermo del Toro collab Silent Hills was unceremoniously killed in its crib, the franchise has only suffered indignity after indignity at the hands of its publisher.

Indeed, Konami’s contributions to this legacy over the past decade amount to little more than a gaudy pachinko machine, an egregiously-monetised streaming show, and the incessant pimping out of the once-terrifying Pyramid Head to other, trendier properties. Oh, and let’s not forget The Short Message: an on-the-nose lecture about cyber bullying that was so condescending it made your average After School Special look like an exercise in Chevokian subtlety.

The sole glimmer of hope we’ve been able to cling to in recent years is Bloober Team’s update of Silent Hill 2 which, depending on who you ask, was either a worthy revival of a classic or, at the very least, a competent attempt at one. But that’s precisely the issue, isn’t it? When the only decent offering we’ve had lately is a remake of a title that was already a masterpiece to begin with, it doesn’t instil much confidence in the licence-holder’s ability to keep this whole enterprise afloat. What we need, instead, are genuinely exciting and fresh ideas.

Enter Silent Hill f. As the first original, mainline entry in the series for well over a decade — and one that promises to shake up the formula in some novel ways — this new title was always going to be Konami’s best shot at reinvigorating their flagship brand. If it pans out, then it might just be enough to prove there is still some gas left in the tank after all. If not, then it will simply be the final nail in a thoroughly secured coffin.

Time for a Change

If that seems like an unfair amount of pressure to put on a single release, I’d argue there’s cause to have such raised expectations here. After all, the promotional materials have indicated that Silent Hill f would be a bold experiment. One that dares to imagine what the Silent Hill universe could be if it were no longer beholden to its unnecessary baggage and established conventions.

You see, the development team at NeoBards Entertainment aren’t content to merely regurgitate things you’ve seen before. On the contrary, they’ve made a valiant effort to blaze a unique trail of their very own and to cast off the shackles of the past.

For starters, they’ve relocated the action from contemporary small-town Maine to a rural Japanese prefecture in the 1960s. Beyond just providing an interesting backdrop for the game to take place against, this change of scenery crucially means that the developers can’t coast by on familiar iconography to win over long-term fans. Indeed, because of the self-imposed restriction, there’s nary a bobblehead nurse or triangular-faced executioner in sight!

Rather than obligatorily trotting out Silent Hill’s greatest hits, then, Neobards have had the guts to come up with their own original ideas. Sure, there are some nods to the releases of yesteryear (there’s a shit-ton of fog, of course, as well as a nightmare otherworld, a map that’s automatically updated with doodles as you make discoveries, and symbolic monsters that prey on your character’s psychological hangups) but it’s mostly about capturing the spirit of the franchise, as opposed to its minutiae.

So gone are the recognisable lanes of Bachman Road and Koontz Street, replaced now with all new locales that you’ll become intimately acquainted with over the course of this adventure. Likewise, the Jacob’s Ladder-esque creatures that used to be synonymous with the series have been swapped out for more culturally-specific boogeymen — that take on a beguiling floral motif — and the combat has been redesigned from the ground up to place a greater emphasis on melee.

The end result is a breath of fresh air to say the least, comparable to how Resident Evil 7 injected vitality back into Capcom’s rival series after it too had lost its way in the early 2010s.

Nightmare Adolescence

Set during the middle of Japan’s Showa-era (at a time when Godzilla was gearing up for his first bout against Mothra, Tokyo was due to host the Olympics, and the Shinkansen bullet train was ready to be unveiled to the world), Silent Hill f has you taking control of a teenage schoolgirl named Hinako Shimizu.

A lifelong resident of the mountain community of Ebisugaoka, she’s something of a walking contradiction. On the one hand, she’s a bit of a tomboy: thoroughly disinterested in the latest makeup trends, fashion crazes or anything else that the conservative locals would deem appropriate for her sex. Instead, she prefers to think of herself as one of the guys, playing sports with her male classmates, regularly busting their balls and concocting violent sci-fi fantasies in which she and her platonic friend, Shu, must defend Earth from alien invaders.

Yet despite the fact that Hinako doesn’t make much of an effort to conform to gender norms or fastidiously maintain her appearance, she has been intensely scrutinised for her looks ever since puberty hit. Female peers are jealous of her natural beauty, while members of the opposite sex lust after her with the same carnal desire exhibited by that one Tex Avery wolf who obsesses over Red Riding Hood.

In short, she’s constantly being dissected by everyone in her life, regardless of what choices she makes. Hinako’s supposed bestie, Rinko, is clearly envious of the male attention she receives and gossips constantly behind her back, while the town elders criticise her unladylike behaviour, and she’s not even 100% sure if he can trust Shu to not have ulterior motives anymore, now that he’s reached that awkward age. Oh, and domestic life with her parents is a whole other can of worms!

Anyway, these repressed grievances and unspoken frictions all come bubbling to the surface when, one day, a mysterious fog bank envelopes Ebisugaoka. Suddenly, 90% of the local population has disappeared without a trace — replaced by body-horror abominations that are at once terrifying, but also strangely elegant— and Hinako finds herself as the number one target of a malevolent force that’s skulking in the mist.

Headstrong as ever, Hinako resolves to take matters into her own hands and decides that the only sensible course of action available to her is to battle her way out of town (with that fractured friend-group in tow). To do this, she must prepare for a hellish ordeal that will see her facing off against all manner of psychosexual beasties and finally confronting her own personal demons. In some cases, quite literally.

Location, Location, Location

Granted, there is a degree of overlap with James Sunderland’s analogous journey into his guilt-ridden psyche. Nevertheless, there’s still a lot that distinguishes Silent Hill f from its forebears.

The most obvious change being that it doesn’t take place in the titular municipality itself. Or even on the same continent for that matter. In fact, short of moving the franchise “down under”, it’s hard to imagine taking it further away from its geographical roots than Neobards have here.

Yet it’s this trip across the Pacific Ocean that turns out to be the developer’s smartest move. Situating the horror in rural Asia gives all the well-worn tropes and tired mechanics that Silent Hill has struggled to shed a brand-new lease of life. Everything from the enemies to the environmental details, the music, the flavour text and the world-building feels distinctly Japanese. It’s utterly steeped in the culture, to the point where the game’s language settings default to the native tongue when you boot it up (an option I’d recommend sticking with, by the way, as the Japanese voice acting is superb).

And if you’re worried about getting homesick for the nostalgic views of Brookhaven Hospital, Lakeside Amusement Park or Wood Side Apartments, rest assured that Ebisugaoka is just as clearly defined and memorable a setting as Silent Hill ever was. To make this feel like a truly lived-in place, the developers took inspiration from the real city of Gero. Sitting at the base of Japan’s second-highest volcano, encircled by forest and generally quite tough to get to, Gero is a picturesque community that relies on foreign tourism to stimulate its economy, with the main draw being a famous onsen hot spring.

The fictional Ebisugaoka is similarly remote yet doesn’t have the benefit of spendthrift vacationers to prop up its businesses. On the contrary, we’re told that it has fallen on hard times lately, owing to the collapse of its anchor industries in mining and dam construction. When we drop in, the settlement has already become a shadow of its former self and, depressingly, its most notable landmark is an iron bridge that leads out of town towards greener pastures.

Yet despite it being a bit of a ghost town, Ebisugaoka has a lot of character. By taking the time to sightsee and pore over the historical records, you’ll learn all about its post-war turmoil, its challenges with extreme weather & seismic activity, its urban legends that have been passed down from generation to generation, the most popular haunts for local young people, and the reverence that its townsfolk have for all things vulpine. It’s as well thought-out and detailed as Bright Falls from Alan Wake or the UNN Rickenbacker from System Shock 2. And just like with those titles, you’re gonna actively want to comb every nook and cranny to make sure you don’t miss anything.

On that note, the level design is quintessential survival horror through and through. As you progress, you’ll gradually unlock shortcuts to help you get from A to B with less harassment and acquire key-like items that will grant you access to areas that were formerly out of reach. It’s a classic approach, but one that’s executed flawlessly here. There’s one sequence wherein you must traverse Hinako’s old middle school, and it so perfectly weaves together the strands of atmosphere, enemy encounters, storytelling, puzzle solving and navigation that I was pretty much ready to declare this GOTY right then and there.

However, things get really interesting when you stray from the golden path, because Neobards hide all kinds of cool little details, creepy vignettes, optional encounters, and extra riddles for those who are brave enough to go hunting for them. At one point, I managed to break into a physician’s office (that wasn’t at all mandatory) and ended up being rewarded for my initiative with some fascinating character insights and a terrific jump scare that caught me completely off-guard. It’s always welcome when games include skippable content like this, as it shows that the developers really understand the appeal of good exploration and how gratifying it can be to make discoveries on your own terms.

Putting the “Psychological” in Psychological Horror

It’s not just the world of Silent Hill f that feels so incredibly rich, though, as that same care has been extended to its narrative and human characters too.

Eminently likeable, yet not without her jagged edges, Hinako is one of the series’ greatest protagonists to date, and you’ll want to keep playing just to peel back the layers of her increasingly complex psychology and dive deeper into the fraught relationships she’s maintaining with both friends and family. As is the case with any teenage girl, there’s a lot of messy stuff going on with our heroine, yet scenario-writer Ryukishi07 portrays that angst in a way that feels mature, intelligent and, above all else, authentic. Which is an impressive feat for a 51-year-old man who presumably doesn’t have first-hand experience with a lot of these female issues.

Speaking of which, the game is unflinching in its depiction of prickly subject matter. Without getting into spoiler territory, the stakes are higher than you might assume based on the hormonal drama I’ve described above, and we get into some dark territory by the final stretch. Themes of child abuse, misogyny, addiction, oppressive gender roles and toxic relationships are all tackled head-on, and you can easily see how this could backfire if not handled with due sensitivity. Again, credit to Ryukishi07, it’s done very tastefully in this case.

In general, I’d say Silent Hill f’s script is exemplary. There’s one left-field twist around the 7-hour mark that will likely prove divisive amongst audiences (as it flirts with an unexpected genre shift) but at least it’s a big swing and that’s precisely what this IP needs right now!

That being said, the best storytelling in Silent Hill has never been about what the writers outwardly verbalise and has instead been more about what they can evoke through cunning visual metaphor and symbolism. This is yet another area where f excels, as the miscellaneous evils that taunt Hinako throughout her quest are framed as manifestations of her subconscious anxieties. For example, her insecurities about female beauty standards are made flesh in the leggy homunculi that have been stitched together from different body parts and sport mocking grins, while her perception of the licentious men in her life can be best summed up by those pot-bellied, drooling predators that lock onto her in combat and her alone. And we hopefully don’t need to explain what the recurring flower motif represents for a young girl who’s on the verge of womanhood.

The Sound of Fear

On the topic of psychological distress, I am overjoyed to report that Silent Hill f is a fucking scary game at times. There are a few spine-tingling jolts, some disturbing flashes of violence and ample nightmare fuel in the creature department.

But it’s the quieter, more subdued moments that really get under your skin. Those parts where you are paranoidly gazing into the fog, listening attentively to the sounds of rustling from nearby bushes, and praying for whatever unseen abomination that’s currently tormenting you to just get it over with already.

On account of the farmland backdrop, the J-horror vibe definitely feels more Onibaba than it does Ringu. Such parallels are especially noticeable when you’re stranded in the rice fields and the winds keep intensifying and intensifying, threatening to overwhelm your eardrums until they burst.

Actually, the audio is pretty damn effective across the board. The rural acoustics are supremely immersive, the unnatural noises of demons set your hair on end, and the music is uniformly top-notch. In terms of the latter, stalwart composer Akira Yamaoka returns to the series here for a number of tracks that exude his signature ambient sound.

However, there are also some more lyrical pieces that make haunting use of traditional Japanese instruments — including percussive Taiko drums, the melancholic Shakuhachi flute and the unmistakable strings of a Biwa. The resultant score works exceedingly well in context, but I can also see it featuring on rotation in my writing playlist going forward because it has a pleasingly zen quality.

Brains and Brawn

In everything from its ambitious themes to its artistic setting, compelling cast, fascinating narrative, and phenomenal soundscape, Silent Hill f represents a (long overdue) return to form for this iconic franchise.

But what about that most integral ingredient of all: the gameplay? After all, if those bedrock foundations aren’t enjoyable, then nothing will be able to save the overall experience from sinking into mediocrity.

For evidence of this, we need look no further than the last time there was a conceptually interesting outing in this series. Released a little over 21 years ago, Silent Hill 4: The Room did so much right on the creative side. However, it was hamstrung by fundamentally broken mechanics and, as a result, is not held in the same high esteem today as its beloved predecessors.

Well, I can happily report that history hasn’t repeated itself with Silent Hill f, although there are still some niggling gripes that we’ll touch on later. Before we get to that, the first thing you need to know is that your interactions with the game world can effectively be divided into two halves, each with their own separate difficulty settings. On the one hand, you have enemy encounters that supply the more in-your-face terror, while on the other, you have those notorious brainteasers that we’ve all come to (affectionately) dread from Silent Hill.

To assuage any concerns that things might have been dumbed down, I can attest that the game’s puzzle gauntlet is satisfyingly cerebral. There’s nothing as devious as SH3’s Shakespeare anthology headscratcher to bring your progress to a screeching halt. Still, I will happily admit I got stumped by more than a couple of them. There’s a Glass Onion secret box that tests your reading comprehension, a tricky substitution code that requires a bit of lateral thinking, and a sadistic trial involving scarecrows that punishes you severely for misinterpreting its clues.

Even when they aren’t mentally taxing, I do appreciate how the conundrums take full advantage of Asian customs and mythology. For instance, an early standout has you studying the Ema plaques that adorn a procession of Tori gates, matching the Yokai spirits that are illustrated upon these blocks to Kanji letters, and then using that info to bypass a combination lock on a nearby Shinto temple. That’s a lot of Japan crammed into just one puzzle!

Alas, the game’s combat makes a less encouraging first impression. I have to confess, my eyebrows were raised when advanced previews indicated that Silent Hill f was going to lift inspiration from the soulsbourne genre, given that melee has never been this franchise’s strong suit. And the first time I was handed a lead pipe and left to clumsily flail it around at a contorted mishmash of body parts, it felt like my worst fears were being realised. Not in a good way.

When compared to other recent horror titles that incentivise getting up-close-and-personal with your foes — such as The Last of Us Part II, Bloober Team’s version of SH2 or, hell, even the reviled Callisto Protocol — trading blows here just feels very stiff. In fact, the same can be said for a lot of Hinako’s distractingly jerky movements. The transition between walking and sprinting is practically non-existent, her psychological breakdown animation is oddly abrupt, and you often get the sense that, whatever action you happen to be performing, there’s always a few keyframes missing.

If you can get past this sloppy presentation, however, the combat has a surprising depth to it. Where melee fights as James Sunderland essentially boiled down to rounds of grotesque Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, Hinako has a much more comprehensive moveset at her disposal. She can execute perfect dodges, light attacks, strong attacks, weapon-specific manoeuvres, staggers, and parries (somewhat confusingly dubbed “counterattacks”, even though you’re supposed to deploy them approximately 4-5 business days before an incoming blow has had a chance to make contact). There’s also a tangible difference in how she handles each armament, as well as an opportunity to slightly customise your build with Omamori charms and a nuanced levelling up system.

Once you acclimatise to how clunky they look, the resulting encounters can be surprisingly strategic and fun. Particularly with the fantastic, reflex testing boss battles (which, at the risk of provoking groans, recall, yes, Dark Souls).

Nevertheless, it has to be pointed out that the best sequences are when the developers either allow or explicitly force you to resort to evasive tactics. Sometimes this takes the form of nail-biting stealth — like when you’re being hunted by a blind behemoth who can catch up to you in no time flat — while on other occasions it’s more about panickily running around in abject terror — like when a leaky vagina monster won’t leave you alone as you try to slowly raise a bucket from an excruciatingly cavernous well.

The opening salvo of the game is super intense in this regard, as it leaves you with no means to defend yourself while a cackling wraith hounds you through the labyrinthine streets of Ebisugaoka. Taken in isolation, that moment was the most energised I’ve felt playing a Silent Hill installment since maybe 2003.

Yet the highest praise I can give Silent Hill f is that it’s more than just a collection of these memorable moments. It’s a cohesive vision that proves there’s still life left in this series, as long as it’s entrusted to the right creative individuals. More than anything, though, it’s nice to be excited for the future of this series again.

Silent Hill f will release on PC via Steam, Xbox Series and PlayStation 5 on September 25.

Review code provided by publisher.

The post ‘Silent Hill f’ Breathes New Life (and Scares) into the Series [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

As IllFonic’s Jarred Gerritzen takes stock of his ‘pinch-me’ circumstances, we can’t help but think about just how many people must envy the developer’s situation. Because, unless they’ve got a pretty major gap in their viewing history, the director of The Thing and The Fog is all but guaranteed to have played a foundational role in any horror fan’s developing love affair with scary movies. Indeed, you’d be hard pressed to find someone — with even the vaguest bit of interest in this genre — who doesn’t have at least one Carpenter flick locked into their top 20.

Alas, for most of us, that’s where our relationship with the master filmmaker ends. No matter how much we might idolize him, we’ve come to terms with the depressing fact that we’ll never be able to rub shoulders with the genius behind They Live, and our incredulous adolescent selves would be quite right to doubt any claims to the contrary.

That’s not the case for Jarred, though, who (in this dubious time travel scenario) would be able to gloat to his 18-year-old self that he does indeed have a direct line to his childhood hero. And not only that, but he is collaborating with him on a brand-new adaptation of one of his most enduring works, in the form of Halloween: The Game.

As Chief Creative Officer for IllFonic, this isn’t the first time a cherished property has been entrusted in Jared’s care. Under his helmsmanship, the studio — known primarily for its asymmetrical multiplayer offerings — has been given the keys to practically all your favourite IPs. In Ghostbusters: Spirits Unleashed, they gave us the chance to don those iconic exterminator jumpsuits and cross the streams to catch player-controlled spectres. With Friday the 13th: The Game, they had us roleplaying as either Jason Voorhees or one of the amorous camp counsellors at his mercy. With Predator: Hunting Grounds, they afforded us the perfect opportunity to yell “get to the chopper” at our teammates. And with last year’s Killer Klowns from Outer Space, they let us encase our friends in cotton candy cocoons and slowly digest their gelatinised remains. All good fun!

Reflecting on these dream assignments, Gerritzen admits: “It’s been a real privilege to get to work on these franchises that mean so much to us, and my wishlist is honestly getting a little thin at this point. From time to time, we do have to turn down IPs that don’t grab us for whatever reason but, for the most part, we’ve always had people on the team who are deeply enthusiastic about each and every licence that comes out way.”

That being said, he acknowledges that this new project is the real “crown jewel” for IllFonic. After all, Halloween is about as significant a legacy as you can get in the horror space, and if there was ever to be a Mount Rushmore for slasher villains then the remorseless Michael Myers would surely deserve pride of place atop that sculpture. Suffice it to say, they’re very excited about what they’re cooking up here.

In anticipation of the title’s announcement at Gamescom 2025, Gerritzen and his colleague Jordan Mathewson, Lead Designer at IllFonic, sat down with Bloody Disgusting for an exclusive interview about Halloween: The Game. Among other things, we spoke about all the different ways they’re planning to shake up the asymmetrical multiplayer formula here, their decision to finally take a proper stab at a solo campaign (pun not intended) and, of course, that much-touted Carpenter connection. Here’s everything we learned!

Death Has Come to Your Little Town

Before we launched into the discussion, we were given a sneak peek of the reveal trailer that has since made its public debut at Gamescom (watch below). As is typical for this kind of early-stage marketing, it doesn’t illuminate a great deal about the title and instead takes the form of a pre-rendered cinematic that only gives you a flavour of what to expect.

Opening with that famous Halloween synthesiser stinger— before then transitioning into Laurie Strode’s more lyrical piano theme — the short teaser introduces us to a quiet suburban street in the sleepy town of Haddonfield, Illinois. It’s 31st October 1978 and all the residents are getting ready for a night of spooky festivities, when suddenly a distressed woman bursts onto the scene, dashing from house to house, feverishly knocking on doors. and trying to alert anyone who will listen to an impending danger.

Given the poor girl’s emotional distress, these warnings aren’t particularly lucid and fall on deaf ears. Yet we’re able to discern what’s got her so rattled, thanks to some characteristically portentous voiceover supplied by none other than Dr. Samuel Loomis (portrayed here by a pretty reasonable Donald Pleasence impersonator).

Going into his usual, hysterical spiel about “The Boogeyman,” he doesn’t prove to be an especially empathetic or rational mental health professional. Instead, he rants (as he so often does) about his patient’s inhuman traits, his penchant for “senseless death,” and the pure malevolence that is etched into his very soul. All of which seems like it must go against some code of conduct or ethical standards for a shrink but, hey, what do I know? Maybe attitudes were just different in the ‘70s.

Anyway, the good doctor carries on raving about reckonings and unstoppable monsters (are we sure he’s not the one in need of psychiatric care?), while our female lead continues in vain to try and sound the alarm about Michael. Unfortunately, her pleas go ignored and the blissfully ignorant locals all stay indoors. A fatal error.

That’s when we hear a bloodcurdling scream from just off camera, followed by the unmistakable sounds of savage butchery. This commotion is soon displaced by Michael Myer’s telltale muffled breathing and then, right on cue, The Shape himself walks into frame. Evil has arrived. Just as was foretold.

Terror Evolves

It’s an appetite-whetting trailer for sure. Yet, as we said, it doesn’t really give you a whole lot to go on. All you can glean is that the game is set in 1978, that it’s got Michael Myers in it and that John Carpenter is attached in some capacity. Perhaps that ought to be enough for now, but we were greedy and so pressed Gerritzen and Mathewson for more details.

In response, the developers reasoned that the title is best understood as existing in two distinct halves, with the first component taking the form of that signature asymmetrical multiplayer that we’ve come to expect from IllFonic. Talking about this, Mathewson said: “If you refer back to what we’ve done in the past, there’s definitely a lot of the same DNA here in Halloween: The Game.”

Agreeing with his colleague, Gerritzen added: “IllFonic has been around for many, many decades. The majority of the team has been with us since Friday the 13th, and they all stuck around for Predator, Ghostbusters and Killer Klowns. So, we’ve [cultivated] a real knowledge base and expertise when it comes to making these types of games. Not to mention we’re familiar with the technology.”

While on the one hand, that track record should instill confidence that IllFonic are the right team for the job, it does also flag a potential cause for concern. That being the fact that a frankly staggering amount of these asymmetrical titles have been released since Friday the 13th debuted in 2017, and the premise could therefore be at risk of growing a little stale. Indeed, the genre has become rather crowded of late, with competitors like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Home Sweet Home: Online and Evil Dead: The Game all throwing their proverbial hats into the ring.

To his credit, the threat of market saturation is a problem that Gerritzen is keenly aware of. “Horror multiplayer has definitely gone through a lot of permutations in recent years,” he concedes. “If we take everyone else out of the equation for a moment and just talk about ourselves, then you’ve got F13, Predator, Ghostbusters and Killer Klowns to take into account. That makes Halloween the fifth iteration of this idea from us alone. So, we appreciate that there is a need to innovate.

“We don’t want to just make the same thing over and over again, retaining the same mechanics and only switching out locations or killers to tie into whatever IP we’re adapting. We want to meaningfully evolve. “My [vision] is that, if someone owns all of IllFonic’s games, then they’ll bounce between them based on their present mood. Because each of them should have a unique feel. One day you might be in the mood for the chaos of Killer Klowns, the next you might fancy something slower and more methodical, like Halloween.”

The (Game) Night He Came Home

Which led us nicely into discussing exactly what the fresh spin will be for Halloween: The Game.

Mathewson took over for this breakdown, elaborating: “We’ve tried to emphasize stealth on both sides of the killer/survivor dynamic. For Michael, it’s about stalking. His mechanics revolve around quietly observing in the shadows and biding your time to get the best possible kills. You see, there will be NPCs [inhabiting] the map, living their lives and going about their various October 31st traditions. Your job is to pick them off!

“Meanwhile, the other players will be sneaking around and trying to alert those civilians to your presence, just like in the teaser trailer we showed. Plus, we’ve got the cops and Dr. Loomis adding an extra wrinkle [to proceedings]. So, if the Michael player isn’t performing well, he’ll have to deal with extra resistance and there are a lot of interesting situations that can arise from that.”

Expanding upon this point, Gerritzen said: “Most other asymmetrical horror games are about escaping, but that’s not the ultimate objective for the survivor players here. Instead, you’re trying to stop Michael’s rampage and save the town. You can eventually end the match and spectate, but the goal is always more complicated than merely ‘run around, loot and escape.’ We think that makes it feel new and interesting.”

Beyond just these rule changes, Halloween: The Game also evolves upon IllFonic’s previous outings by introducing a big technical upgrade behind the scenes.

“Moving to Unreal Engine 5 has given us a huge visual boost,” Gerritzen enthuses. “You can see that most obviously with Michael’s mask, which was a huge priority for us. It’s such an important part of the franchise iconography and we had to get it perfect. There’s been so many iterations of that one prop over the years — across multiple different movies — but they’ve all degraded and so there was nothing available for us to laser scan.

“That meant we had to design it from scratch, and we ended up obsessing over every last microscopic detail. If we were making this four or five years ago, we would have had fewer polygons and less dynamic lighting at our disposal, but Unreal 5 was a real asset for us and the end product looks super impressive. I’m very proud of how the mask, and the rest of the game, is shaping up.”

Solo Gamers Are Entitled to A Good Scare As Well

Asymmetrical multiplayer is obviously IllFonic’s bread and butter, but the second half of the Halloween package is arguably even more intriguing, as it promises to be the studio’s most substantial solo offering to date.

In all fairness, the team has already dipped their toes into these waters — with Friday the 13th’s “virtual cabin,” and its Hitman-style challenges that were added post-launch — but they’ve never done anything quite this intensive before.

Not only will there be an offline substitute for multiplayer matches, giving you the opportunity to practice with AI bots, but there will also be a bona fide story campaign. Developed in collaboration with PollardStudio (who brought us Karma: The Dark World earlier this year), this mode will thrust you into the coveralls of The Shape and have you facing off against the townspeople of Haddonfield, the police and, of course, that pesky busybody Dr. Loomis.

IllFonic were cagey about revealing too much more at this juncture, but Mathewson is confident that the campaign will be a treat for fans of the film series. “It’s such a fun mode,” he exclaimed. “You’ll get to have a very controlled Halloween experience that will hopefully drive even more people towards the multiplayer. We can’t wait to show it off in the near future.”

Returning to the Source

Finally, we had to ask about that enticing Hollywood namedrop in the trailer. IllFonic tends to consult the original creators of any material they’re adapting. In the past, they’ve secured the input of the Chiodo brothers for Killer Klowns and enlisted Tom Savini to help devise the grisly kill animations for Friday the 13th. Still, this is John-freakin’-Carpenter we’re talking about: a legendary master of his craft and a gaming enthusiast to boot. Surely it must have been a little intimidating trying to earn his blessing?

“Actually, the cool thing was, we didn’t have to explain a bunch of concepts to him,” Gerritzen replied. “Because he is a gamer, he knows this stuff already and has specifically mentioned what he wants to see from us in terms of ideas. So far, that working relationship has been amazing. The same goes for our interactions with Malek Akkad [son of original Halloween producer Moustapha Akkad, associate producer of many of the franchise’s later instalments, and current IP rights holder].”

Echoing these sentiments, Mathewson added: “This is one of those opportunities that comes along once in a lifetime. The stars truly aligned to give us this level of access to the franchise’s lineage, and it’s helped us assemble an experience that is very true to that iconic 1978 film.”

On that note, you might notice that the publicity for Halloween: The Game refers to Carpenter’s movie in isolation, without ever broaching the subject of its sequels, requels, reboots or remakes. That’s because this tie-in is based exclusively on the first film alone, effectively disregarding the rest of the series’ tangled continuity. So don’t go expecting Corey Cunningham loadouts, Silver Shamrock cosmetics or Rob Zombie easter eggs popping up here. It’s original recipe Halloween all the way.

Explaining the rationale behind this, Gerritzen clarified: “It’s about making the cleanest possible version of the universe. We think of it like that first film is a central train station, from which the story goes off in all these crazy directions. I mean, name a movie franchise with 13 films where the continuity is coherent [laughs].

“But keeping it focused on the original film made the most sense to us. The lore is more straightforward. Michael is still young and spry. It just works. However, we’re leaving it open to connect to the other train stations later on down the line if we want to. We’ll see what happens!”

Of course, having the narrative situated in the year 1978 might return Michael to his prime, but he’s never been one for intense cardio anyway. Even in his youth! Compared to Leatherface, Freddy or even Jason, his walking pace is decidedly glacial.

Curious as to how that characteristic will translate into gameplay (without being incredibly frustrating for the person controlling the boogeyman), we asked the devs outright if they have a mitigation in place to stop survivors easily outpacing their would-be killer.

Gerritzen played it coy, only going so far as to indicate that the team does have something up their sleeve: “There’s a very IllFonic way of making that make sense, let’s just say that! We’ve come up with some unique mechanics that Malek and crew are very happy about. You’ll have to watch this space to find the specifics.”

We’re naturally keen to learn more about that system but, based on what we’ve heard so far, it’s not like we needed any more reasons to keep a close eye on this one. For fans of horror games and horror cinema alike, it’s looking very promising indeed. And, hey, if it’s good enough for Carpenter, then it’s good enough for us.

The post ‘Halloween: The Game’ Exclusive Interview – Everything You Need to Know About the Upcoming Game! appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

The meticulous archivist behind that project, Nightdive Studios — who, incidentally, did a stellar job resurrecting The Thing license a few months back — are known for being sticklers when it comes to bringing back the oldies exactly as they were. Indeed, whenever they are entrusted with another developer’s legacy, they treat it with the same reverence that a classical scholar has for those precious texts that can only be handled with nitrile gloves.

To put it another way, they’ve never half-assed it like Konami did with its God-awful Silent Hill HD Collection, or like Rockstar peddling the so-called “definitive edition” of GTA: San Andreas. On the contrary, Nightdive take their duties very seriously and, in doing so, provide a vital service that the mainstream industry seems largely disinterested in performing for itself. It’s fair to say that, without the TLC they provide, many beloved abandonware titles would have either faded into obscurity by now or otherwise been mishandled by less attentive custodians.

Still, when it came to System Shock, they probably could have been a tad braver about making tweaks. Even if it would have gone against their traditionalist tendencies. For although it is surely a canonical great and deserving of its place in the annals of gaming history; from the perspective of a 21st-century console peasant —  accustomed to helpful yellow paint, and know-it-all NPCs that eagerly blurt out solutions to every puzzle —  the quest to save Citadel space station now feels cumbersome, obtuse and, at times, downright infuriating.

Ever the purists, Nightdive made few concessions to newbies with their update of System Shock, and instead decided to appease the masochistic old guard. Which meant leaving intact everything from the game’s fiddly UI to its awkward platforming and those bewildering Cyberspace sections. If you didn’t get on with it, you might have uncharitably described the whole affair as being “slavish” to the past.

Anyway, the reason I’m dredging all of this back up (besides the fact that I apparently didn’t get enough incensed fanboys clogging up my DMs before) is that the folks over at Nightdive have now turned their attentions to System Shock’s sequel. And with it only being a 25th Anniversary Remaster, and not a fully-fledged remake, they’ve changed even less this time around.

Age Is Just A Number

Crucially, however, that’s not an issue in the case of System Shock 2. After all, the 1999 title holds up extraordinarily well in contrast to its esoteric predecessor.

They might have only been released five years apart but, if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear there were decades of technological advances and creative innovations separating the pair. The sequel is just tighter, places a much stronger emphasis on immersion, doesn’t feel anywhere near as restrictive in its design, and is overall way, way more fun. If anything, it’s only gotten better with age.

There are many reasons why System Shock 2 has endured so well, while cracks are conversely showing in its forebear. But if I were to single out the two things that made the biggest difference, they would be that: A) it has a more confident vision and B) it benefited enormously from fresh blood in the development team.

In terms of the former, Looking Glass was cognisant that not everybody “got” the original game. At first glance, it looked like another Doom clone hoping to ride on the coattails of Id Software’s (then brand-new) hit. It boasted a very similar graphical style, a comparable sci-fi setting and an ostensive focus on the same mutant-blasting gunplay.

Yet it turned out to be a far more cerebral experience than anybody could have guessed from the promotional screenshots. Rather than indulging those with the itchiest of trigger fingers, it demanded considerable patience from the player, expecting them to come to grips with complex, interrelated mechanics, inventory management grids, and menus upon menus. Sure, there was gruesome violence along the way, but you kind of had to work for it. Wolfenstein 3D this was not, and that slow-burn nature did end up alienating some people.

Having learned their lesson, the devs wisely opted to distance themselves from the FPS label when the time came to plan a sequel; instead foregrounding other elements that had previously taken a backseat to combat. As noted in the initial pitch document, it was now intended to be more of an RPG and less of a “Quake deathmatch”. The result is a game that seems a lot more comfortable in its own skin. Indeed, it nailed those role-playing aspects so well that it inadvertently went on to become one of the founding fathers of the immersive sim genre, in turn laying the groundwork for cult favourites like Deus Ex and a certain undersea masterpiece.

Which brings us nicely to the other thing System Shock 2 had going for it in 1999: its exciting behind-the-scenes talent. Effectively the maiden voyage for co-developer Irrational Games, and the first project to be overseen by industry legend Ken Levine, SS2 feels in many (quite tangible) ways like a trial run for BioShock and even patented some of the latter’s defining ideas.

To name but a few, you’ve got: the same starter weapon (in the form of a wrench); hacking minigames; timed security alarms; respawn bays that charge a small fee upon activation; one-use-only upgrade kiosks; multiple ammunition types; resources that are coveted in-universe (and that can be spent to augment your psychic powers); alcohol that increases your HP while simultaneously draining your AP; and those ghostly apparitions that reenact tragedies of days gone by. The introductory area is even a medical pavilion for Christ’s sake!

The overlap couldn’t be more apparent. Yet the most significant way that you can observe the seeds of BioShock being planted here, is with the mature and thematically dense story.

“Prepare To Join Your Species in Extinction”

Speaking of which, System Shock 2’s narrative works as both a logical follow-up to its immediate predecessor and a self-contained episode in its own right.

In the wake of the Citadel space station incident — during which the rouge Artificial Intelligence, SHODAN, was deliberately freed of its ethical constraints and staged a coup against humanity — trust in mega-corporations has reached an all-time low. In an attempt to address this, an intergovernmental agency, known as the United Nations Nominate (UNN), has been established to hold unscrupulous private sector organisations to account, and strict prohibitions have been imposed on the development of AI programmes like SHODAN. In short, the powers that be are doing everything they can to ensure that history doesn’t repeat itself here.

It’s against this fraught backdrop that the TriOptimum corporation attempts to stage a comeback and rehabilitate its public image by launching an experimental, Faster Than Light starship, christened the Von Braun.

Although fraternisation between the company employees and servicemen does occur in small patches, for the most part, their relationship is as strained as you would expect in the dicey political climate. Not to mention, the tensions are exacerbated by rampant engineering faults that keep cropping up across the Von Braun and computer systems that seem to be constantly on the fritz. Suffice it to say, it’s not the smoothest sailing.

The point at which the situation graduates from “volatile” to “full-on mayhem”, however, is when the voyagers decide to respond to a distress signal from Tau Ceti V. It’s not initially clear what transpires on that uninhabited planet, but when you awaken from your cryo sleep you find that both the Von Braun and the Rickenbacker have been completely overtaken by an alien parasite. One that’s mutated everybody into grotesque Borg-like aberrations.

Working with a disembodied voice over the radio —  which, to your knowledge, belongs to the only other survivor of this calamity —   your mission is to ascend the various decks of each vessel, fighting fires along the way and desperately trying to get the infection under control. Of course, this is far easier said than done, given that the unmaintained ships are practically falling to bits, radiation leaks are springing up everywhere you go, and the security systems have gone totally haywire. So much for the UNN preventing another Citadel-style catastrophe!

A World Worth Dying (Repeatedly) For

It’s an enthralling tale that, similar to BioShock’s, deals with heady themes of scientific hubris, unchecked capitalist ambition, and the dangers posed by political ideologues. And also like its spiritual successor, it’s concerned with a societal breakdown that occurred long before you arrived at the party.

If you’ve got experience navigating the subaquatic tunnels of Rapture, you’ll know the drill here. With hardly any friendly NPCs to catch you up to speed, piecing together what actually occurred on the Von Braun will require you to pay close attention to environmental clues and hunt down collectable logs that fill in the rest of the gaps.

Progressing this detective work, and figuring out how these fragmented snippets of storytelling all line up, is extremely gratifying. Only by scouring the decks thoroughly will you, for instance, be able to learn what’s up with those telekinetic monkeys or why there are so many dead bodies buried in the shopping mall gardens.

Straying from the golden path does more than just develop your understanding of the lore, though, as exploration yields all sorts of juicy rewards. A hidden vent in the living quarters could lead you to a stash of goodies, while the confessional recording of a lonely crew member will reveal which synthetic “love” booth he was in when he made it rain with valuable nanite currency.

These discoveries aren’t signposted and can be easily missed if you’re not looking out for them. In fact, you can probably get through most levels by only covering about 50% of the respective floor map, making it all the more meaningful when you do find something that other players might have overlooked. Even if that something is just a startling jump scare.

You’ll want to take your time enjoying this world anyway. It’s maybe not quite on par with Andrew Ryan’s objectivist dystopia, but compared to most other video game diegeses it’s overflowing with character and atmosphere. Everywhere feels lived in, there are chilling tableaus that give you an insight into what people were doing when shit hit the fan, and it generally feels very well thought out. The recreational zone is a particular highlight, featuring a coherent leisure offer that looks like it would be genuinely enjoyable, were it not for the homicidal mutants going around spoiling the mood.

On that note, System Shock 2 has some memorable foes for you to go up against as well. There are the aforementioned psychic simians, the kamikaze protocol droids, and those mumbling hybrids that still have lingering residues of their human selves. The standouts, however, are surely the harrowing Cyborg Midwives. Mechanised female corpses —  disfigured beyond all recognition and implanted with maternal instincts to make them protective of alien eggs —  they are truly terrifying figures, and you’ll soon come to dread the telltale whirring sound that accompanies their patrols. Their rictus grins alone are the stuff of nightmares.

Putting the “Immersive” in “Immersive Sim” 

No matter what body horror monstrosity you are facing, or what objective is next on your to-do list, there will be tons of options for securing the desired result, as Irrational never once railroad you into a specific course of action here.

You see, whereas the first System Shock was basically a thinking man’s FPS (with some scope for experimentation), its follow-up set the gold standard for what we now know as the immersive sim. Popularising a design ethos that would later be adopted by Prey (2017) and Dishonoured, every problem you come across in this game has several viable solutions. So, creative thinking can often be just as effective as a shotgun slug to the head.

In fact, it’s entirely possible to make it through the whole campaign without emptying a single pistol clip or even equipping a firearm of any kind. Take my playthrough, for instance, during which I invested heavily in psionic abilities and neglected anything to do with conventional ballistics. Sure, I did keep a crystal sword at hand for close encounters but, otherwise, I relied pretty much exclusively on my Scanners powers to get the job done. I could hypnotise mutants into turning on each other, hack turrets from afar, set enemies ablaze with the flick of a wrist, or employ telekinesis to draw out-of-reach objects into my grasp.

These tricks were so satisfying to pull off because I knew they were tied to the path I chose for myself. Had I distributed my skill points differently, I wouldn’t have been able to so much as make a coffee cup wobble, but in my playthrough the mind was the only weapon I ever needed. Which was fortunate, seeing as how I was completely locked out of using the garden variety assault rifle, due to a pitiful lack of training, and was similarly hopeless when it came to performing rudimentary maintenance tasks.

What’s important to understand is that the game encourages precisely this type of specialisation, as jack of all trades won’t last long in the world of System Shock 2. And therein lies its innate replayability! You’ll want to try it again and again and again to see how else things can go down aboard the Von Braun when you choose different disciplines.

Speaking of which, this roleplaying concept is slickly introduced via one of the most ingenious tutorial sections I’ve ever experienced. Taking place at the UNN recruitment centre, it gives you a taste of what it’s like to be either a marine, a naval officer or a psychic spook and then asks you to enlist in your preferred military branch. Though the distinction between these vocations might not be immediately apparent to newcomers, they essentially translate to those RPG staples of warrior, thief and mage. From there, you will get to flesh out your character even further by customising the itinerary of their tour of duty, equipping them with skills that are relevant to their postings.

That’s a lot of depth right off the bat, and yet it only scratches the surface of how malleable System Shock 2 can be if you push it to its limits. At the time of release, much fuss was made about the fact that you could drop an item on one deck of the ship and then return to it hours later and find that it was still where you left it. A quaint yet impressive feature to be sure, but one that pales in comparison to some of the other things you can do here.

Case in point, I augmented my speed implant with an acceleration hypo to sprint through a tricky environment, and gained so much momentum in the process that I ran headfirst into an automatic door; bludgeoning myself to death. To paraphrase Ron Burgundy, I wasn’t even mad, just amazed at how sophisticated this 25-year-old game was proving itself to be.

Indeed, like the best immersive sims, System Shock 2 is a fantastic anecdote generator. The quest to restore power to the engineering deck —   which you might tackle as, say, a trigger-happy jarhead —   could be a chaotic clusterfuck for you, but a comparative breeze for a player approaching that same scenario as a master technician or an egg-head researcher.

Even something as simple as negotiating a radioactive corridor can be approached from multiple angles, whether that’s by donning a protective hazmat suit, overriding security doors in search of an alternate route, or simply risking prolonged exposure to the fallout and then pumping yourself full of meds afterwards. The brilliance of the design is that there’s no right and wrong answer here. Only possibilities.

A Low Key But Effective Remaster

Given how gracefully System Shock 2 has aged, and how in keeping it already feels with modern sensibilities, Nightdive were wise not to tamper with it too much for their 25th anniversary remasters.

In terms of what they have done, the visuals have been lightly touched up —  now running in 4K resolution and at 144 frames per second —  your options for customising certain technical preferences have been expanded, there’s support for ultra-widescreen monitors, and crossplay functionality has been added to the existing co-op mod. Oh, and they’ve also bundled in an impressive amount of extras, including digital scans of the original PC instruction booklet and the official Prima guide.

Other than that it’s pretty much the exact same title that debuted at the turn of the millennium. Which, to reiterate, is no bad thing when the original source material is as sublime as this.

A proper remake (with a graphical overhaul akin to the one that the first System Shock received at the hands of Nightdive) certainly wouldn’t go amiss, but it’s nice to just have an upscaled version of the classic that’s readily available. For fans who’ve been there since day one, it’s an excuse to take a nostalgic trip down memory lane. For everyone else, it’s the ideal opportunity to jump in and see what all the fuss is about. Either way, it’s an absolute must-buy.

System Shock 2: 25th Anniversary Remaster is available now on PC via Steam, Epic Games Store, GOG, and Humble Store, while the console launch for Xbox, PlayStation and Nintendo Switch platforms is expected for early July. Review code provided by publisher.

The post ‘System Shock 2: 25th Anniversary Remaster’ Is Absolute Perfection [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Not only are we inclined to turn everything into a weird, one-sided pissing contest with Gen Z by, say, pitching our Saturday morning cartoons against theirs or banging on about how much better music was in the heyday of nu metal (for the record, it categorically was not), but we also insist that there can be no shared cultural understanding between someone who came of age in the early 2010s, versus someone who came of age towards the tail end of that very same decade.

Which is patently ridiculous, of course, unless we’re genuinely supposed to believe that a 25-year-old nowadays has no frame of reference for what the internet was like in 2013, nor any awareness of things like Marvel, Minecraft and Taylor Swift. It’s a pretty shallow fallacy and one that’s more than a little condescending. I’ve got Gen Z siblings, after all, and can personally attest that the generational gap between us isn’t some great, impassable ravine.

That being said, if a typical Gen Zer were to watch Matthew Vaughn’s superhero send-up, Kick-Ass, for the first time, I could easily envision them coming away from the experience with one burning question. That being: “What the fuck is Myspace?”

To be fair to them, it’s not something that they have reason to be familiar with, any more so than they should know about Betamax or the Sega Dreamcast. Like those other historical losers, it’s a platform that has fallen into total obscurity and has no real legacy to speak of. In fact, Myspace’s popularity was already dwindling when Kick-Ass hit the big screen in 2010 (for reference, development on the project began shortly after the premiere of Vaughn’s Stardust) and so referencing it as a dominant online forum today is about as archaic as identifying your search engine of choice to be Ask Jeeves.

Yet this notion that the film’s hero would adopt Myspace as a kind of 21st-century equivalent of the bat signal — using it to process incoming requests for help from civilians — is really the only thing that dates Kick-Ass. Because, other backing the wrong horse in the social media race, it turned out to be ahead of the curve in more ways than one.

Indeed, it was among the first movies to explicitly recognise that net notoriety was about to become a key driver in celebrity culture and was also snarkily deconstructing comic-book tropes long before the more corporate-feeling Deadpool series took all the credit (beating Reynolds and co. to the punch by a half-decade). Not to mention, it made heavy use of incongruous, upbeat needle drops (prior to that becoming an overused crutch of action-comedies), revelled in the opportunities afforded to it by an R-rating (at a time when genre flicks were especially neutered), and consciously exploited Nic Cage’s then-nascent status as a living, breathing meme (paving the way for things like The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent).

Smells Like Teen Spirit

For those who have neither seen the film nor read the Mark Millar graphic novel that it faithfully adapts — albeit while rounding off some unsavoury edges — it revolves around dorky-high-schooler-turned-DIY-crime-fighter Dave Lizewski (played by a fresh-faced Aaron Taylor-Johnson). Spurred on by a mixture of adolescent boredom and an earnest desire to make a difference, Dave one day decides to fashion himself a costume out of a modified wetsuit he ordered off eBay, grabs himself a couple of batons, does a few sit-ups in his bedroom, and then takes to the streets for some low-level vigilantism, under the appropriately juvenile alias of “Kick-Ass.”

At first, he struggles to find anyone willing to accept his assistance and must instead settle on rescuing missing pets, but when his impromptu intervention in a street brawl goes viral on YouTube, he becomes an overnight sensation and the requests for help come flooding in. Alas, fame turns out to be a double-edged sword for Dave. On the one hand, it gives him a newfound sense of purpose, along with the confidence to finally strike up a conversation with the girl of his dreams. On the other, it places him atop the kill-list of a local mafioso named Frank D’Amico (Mark Strong), who mistakenly assumes that Kick-Ass is responsible for a recent string of attacks against his empire.

In actual fact, any disruption of D’Amico’s operations should be attributed to a dynamic duo that’s operating elsewhere in the shadows. Substituting tea parties for firearms training and dollhouses for balisong knives, Big Daddy (Nicolas Cage) and the notoriously potty-mouthed Hit-Girl (Chloë Grace Moretz) are a father-daughter team who have been making life hell for the criminal underworld. Their idea of spending quality time together typically involves somebody getting shot, stabbed or mangled to death in a car crusher. But, you know, they’re only killing bad guys. So, it’s a wash.

Anyway, before long, the amateurish Dave finds himself embroiled in the war that these two seasoned pros are waging against organised crime in the city. Complicating matters even further is D’Amico’s son, Chris (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), who fancies donning spandex as well, and uses his father’s wealth to create a masked alter ego of his very own.

What ensues is a supremely entertaining, tightly-paced adventure that boasts witty genre subversions, memorable dialogue, impossibly cool characters, a flagrant disregard for good taste, and some astonishingly bloody set-pieces. Suffice it to say, as someone who was the ideal age for the film when it released back in 2010, I thought it was the best thing I’d ever seen.

No Powers, No Problem

Part of Kick-Ass’s appeal is that its conceit is simple and yet no one had ever really done it before (granted, James Gunn’s Super would follow hot on its heels in 2011).

The ingenious premise of “average schmuck decides to stand up for his community by throwing on a naff costume and heading out to do his bit” is one of those that causes you to wonder why it took so long for the industry to get around to it. Because it’s so easy to get behind! Everyone loves a tryer, and the little guy is always far easier to root for than a billionaire with a legion of armoured suits or a literal alien god that’s impervious to harm.

On that note, Taylor-Johnson’s Dave is wonderfully unremarkable when we meet him. As he himself confesses in the opening narration, he’s not particularly academic, athletic or even funny and the closest thing he has to a metahuman ability is the fact that he’s cripplingly invisible to members of the opposite sex. If that all sounds reminiscent of Peter Parker’s bio, pre radioactive spider bite, it absolutely is! Although I don’t remember Tobey Maguire’s voiceover having quite so many references to compulsive masturbation.

Anyway, the key difference between Dave and the web head is that great power — and, with it, the proportional amount of responsibility — never comes knocking for him. Nor does a tragic loss motivate his quest, with his mother having died of an aneurysm in the kitchen as opposed to at the hands of a desperate mugger.

Despite this lack of traditional backstory or fighting prowess, however, he’s still determined to do the right thing. Which just makes him an eminently likeable protagonist. Sure, he eventually gets quasi-superpowers in the form of obliterated nerve endings (in his own words, bestowing him with a “slightly elevated capacity to take a kicking”), but even that’s effectively just a medical condition. For the most part, he remains thoroughly untrained, thoroughly uncoordinated and thoroughly undeterred, with his only recourse to villainy being that he can hit people with sticks. And you gotta love him for it.

The whiplash that occurs when Dave’s relatively mundane world collides with the heightened reality of Hit Girl & Big Daddy is, therefore, all the funnier because the film has committed to making him so relatable and pathetic. After all, the other two feel like they’re gatecrashing from a more respectable blockbuster. One where the laws of physics are only suggestions and where gatling-gun mounted jetpacks are but an “Add to Shopping Cart” button-click away. It’s a fun juxtaposition that serves as the basis for a lot of the script’s best humour. And, also, for its delirious ultra-violence.

Why So Serious?

Speaking of which, the carnage here is glorious. We’re not 20 minutes in before somebody’s already cooked to death in an industrial microwave — exploding Gremlins style — and the slaughter doesn’t let up from there. We’ve got the aforementioned car crusher scene, multiple dismemberments and too many brutal headshots to count; the vast majority of which are perpetrated by an 11-year-old girl.

If you’re a sicko like me it’s guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, especially since it’s all done in a very playful, tongue-in-cheek manner. I mean, how else are you supposed to react to a bunch of fully-grown gangsters cowering in fear from a Polly Pocket pre-teen other than laugh?

Don’t let the comical tone fool you, though, because the action sequences seriously impress when the time comes. Vaughn’s credentials in this area aren’t to be sniffed at (as anyone who has seen the Kingsman church massacre will attest), and it’s with Kick-Ass that he really honed his talents.

Every set-piece is punchy, energetic and comes with a distinctive visual flair. There’s Dave’s first chaotic scrap on the streets — frenetically intercut with bystanders’ cell phone footage — a Tarantino-esque bloodbath of severed limbs & brutal impalements — hilariously scored to The Dickies’ rendition of The Banana Splits theme — and a long tracking-shot raid on a warehouse in which Big Daddy is permitted to go full Punisher mode. Yet the indisputable highlight is a strobe-lit rescue mission that’s at once exhilarating and ethereal; delivering far more chills than you’d expect from a teen comedy.

Across the board, Kick-Ass goes a lot harder with the presentation side of things than it needs to, leaning into a bubble-gum aesthetic that makes it stand out from the stylistically unadventurous comic-book movies we’re treated to in the modern era. Indeed, the vibrant splashes of purple, red, orange and green give the whole thing a unique pop-art aesthetic that is way more arresting than those drab, muted hues that seem to dominate the MCU nowadays, while there’s also some creative editing choices and scene transitions sprinkled throughout. If only the film’s big-budget rivals cared half this much about how they look!

Blockbuster Thrills, Independent Spirit

Which brings us to another important consideration. Although it was made for an estimated $30 million, Kick-Ass was technically not a Hollywood production and was, in fact, independently financed.

Across the industry, studio heads had been turned off by its adult content — stipulating that it would need to be watered down to get a greenlight — and were particularly nervous about how Hit-Girl would be received by mainstream audiences. Suggestions for making her more palatable ranged from ageing her up to reigning in her swearing (oddly enough, they didn’t seem to be as fussed about all the killing) and even outright cutting her from the script altogether.

Confident that she was the movie’s ace-in-the-hole, however, and correctly predicting that she would go on to become its most enduring character, Vaughn opted to stick to his guns and raised the necessary funds himself. The end result is a wilfully anarchic, taboo-shattering piece of work that — similar to its protagonist — feels like a hungry underdog fighting to be noticed in a world dominated by heavy-hitters. It’s got a real punk rock energy, and you get the sense that it was never once put in front of hand-wringing market researchers, subjected to corporate interference, or left at the mercy of antsy focus groups. Whatever you may think of it, it’s Vaughn’s vision; pure and unfettered.

Speaking of Vaughn, he is obviously a contentious figure in this post-Argylle climate. As a director, he often takes audacious swings and, depending on the execution, this approach can go one of two ways. When he miscalculates, you get Elton John in a weird peacock outfit fending off android dogs, ala Kingsman: The Golden Circle, or Bryce Dallas Howard ice skating around on an oil rig to an A.I. composed Beatles track.

Yet when his offbeat ideas do work, and he has frequent co-writer Jane Goldman in his corner to help make sense of them, they can pay off big time. Kick-Ass is arguably the project that best demonstrates this, as it’s filled with all kinds of inspired choices, like how Nic Cage channels Adam West when in the Big Daddy getup, or how one flashback sequence is depicted entirely as a stunning animated comic brought to life.

The fact that Vaughn went with his gut means that he was also free to take some of those risks that the studios weren’t yet ready for. Again, Deadpool owes this movie a huge debt for proving that there was an appetite for R-rated, irreverent superhero satires years before they were in vogue.

We Need To Talk About Hit-Girl

Of course, when championing Kick-Ass as an exemplar of what can be accomplished if filmmakers dare to push the envelope and refuse to compromise, it all inevitably leads back to Hit-Girl. That lightning rod of controversy about whom much ink was split in the lead up to the movie’s release.

Quaint as it may seem now, there was certainly a lot of uproar about the character in the press at the time, with this moral panic largely revolving around her harsh vocabulary. Honestly, it feels a little overblown in retrospect. By our count, she cusses maybe five or six times in total (depending on whether references to female sanitary products qualify in your book) and the dreaded C-bomb is only busted at once. Some people are just funny about four-letter words, I guess.

As a Matthew Vaughn apologist, it’s often matters of taste, rather than craft, that I find myself having to defend. He can rub people up the wrong way, as he did with that bawdy anal sex gag in the first Kingsman, the Glastonbury scene that doubled down on that same gag in its sequel, or the Adolf Hitler tease in its WW1-era prequel (man, that’s a lot of discourse for one franchise). But, the thing is, I’ve never bought into this idea of him as some kind of wanton edgelord. In each of those instances, he seems to have been genuinely caught off guard by the outrage, and I don’t get the impression that he ever goes out of his way to offend. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have vetoed an objectionable twist that Mark Millar floated in the early development of Kick-Ass that would have revealed a much darker, abusive side to Big Daddy. Vaughn shot that one down because he knew it would have crossed a line and undermined the fun tone of his movie, so he clearly does possess something akin to good judgment.

Be that as it may, from the moment she announces herself with a jaw-dropping expletive, Hit-Girl was always going to ruffle some feathers. While little kids dispensing obscenities is nothing new in media (South Park is on the cusp of its 30th birthday after all), there is something about how pointedly and aggressively she does it that just feels different. If you’re of a sensitive disposition then it’s bound to upset you, but if you’re conversely in on the joke, then it emerges as a constant source of hilarity.

Hit-Girl is crucially more than just a vehicle for shock-humour as well, with Vaughn and Goldman knowing when to play her for laughs and when to take her more seriously. In fact, she is central to many of the film’s most dramatic and intense scenes and, despite how absurd that might sound on paper, it 100% works. Once the initial novelty wears off, you start to forget that you’re watching a pint-sized assassin driving around in a sports car and fighting the mob.

Which is a testament to both the quality of the script and to Chloë Grace Moretz’s astonishing breakout performance. She truly sells the character’s angst, bravado and bad-ass one-liners; navigating tricky material that even veteran actors might have struggled to get to grips with. Not to mention, she also capably holds her own in the company of more experienced screen partners, managing to steal scenes from right under Nic-fucking-Cage of all people. It’s a shame then that she hasn’t been given the opportunity to reprise the role since Jeff Wadlow’s divisive Kick-Ass 2, because she’s one of the most perfectly cast comic-book heroes I can think of.

That being said, I think the film in general is one of the most perfect comic-book adaptations ever to grace the silver screen and that it’s not given the kudos it deserves. I could go on gushing about it for another thousand words and still not cover everything I love. For instance, I’ve not even touched upon the energetic musical score, the savvy references or the triumphant ending that never fails to leave me with a massive smile on my face. More than anything, however, I just love how singular and unique Kick-Ass feels. Right down to that dated Myspace plug.

The post No Power, No Responsibility: Why We Still Love ‘Kick-Ass’ 15 Years Later appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

It was a knowingly quirky elevator pitch and one that you’d think would remain quite singular in the grand scheme of things. At the very least, it’s a statistical improbability that the same idea would crop up again in the career of the same games journalist. And yet, with RailGods of Hysterra today entering Early Access, we find ourselves experiencing a profound sense of déjà vu.

After all, we are now in the extraordinary position of being able to claim that: “if we had a penny for every time we covered a low budget, cosmic horror title, set in an open world populated by religious nutjobs and with a grotesque, sentient train monster at its core, then we’d have two pennies.” Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice!

In RailGods’ defence, however, that surface-level appraisal is where any meaningful similarities between it and Choo Choo Charles end. The latter was a decidedly tongue-in-cheek affair — playing its outrageous premise for laughs — whereas Troglobytes Games’ new outing is comparatively straight-faced. The two also inhabit completely different genres, with CCC taking after stealth experiences like Outlast and Alien: Isolation, while RailGods positions itself more as an isometric, co-op RPG with base-building elements.

Yet the biggest point of divergence is surely in how these two-of-a-kind releases opt to characterise their eldritch train creatures. You see, the titular Charles of Choo Choo Charles was an unrepentant asshole through and through — hounding you across the map, disrupting your best-laid plans, trying to impale you with its arachnoid legs, and generally making a nuisance of itself.

The “Rail God” that ferries you around Hysterra, on the other hand, is a pretty cool guy (at least once you look past its off-putting physiognomy and insatiable appetite for human flesh). Not only does it serve as a useful mode of cross-country transportation and a reliable sanctuary for the player, but it’s also an inter-level hub that you’ll come to rely on. When hitching a ride aboard one of the living train’s carriages you’ll have the opportunity to do a little inventory management, craft superior equipment for your upcoming excursions, research schematics for further upgrades, invest points in the game’s skill tree, and even unwind by indulging in a spot of interior design. Oh, and it’ll furnish you with some dark magicks to help you repel the hostile forces that dwell in the surrounding wastelands.

Going Off the Rails on a Crazy Train

Speaking of which, RailGod’s diegesis is an intriguing one. Where a lot of contemporary horror games are clearly indebted to the works of H.P. Lovecraft, few of them take the extra step of making him an actual in-universe character. But Troglobytes has done just that with their title, imagining a world in which the trailblazing author was more than just a mere peddler of pulp, and was in fact a bona fide augur whose outlandish writings belonged decidedly on the non-fiction shelf.

Convinced that the “Great Old Ones” of his Cthulhu mythos would one day arrive to wreak havoc on Earth, this version of Lovecraft spent decades steeling himself for the worst (hey, doomsday preparing has gotta be a way healthier outlet than all that racist letter correspondence he was busy with in real life). One especially wise precaution he took was to recruit a squadron of brave explorers to venture into the so-called “dreamlands” on his behalf, and see what could be learned from there about this coming evil.

Taking control of one of these metaphysical interlopers — whose appearance can be tailored via a pretty decent character creator — you awaken to a world that has gone utterly to shit. Apparently, you managed to sleep through the prophesied celestial invasion and are now one of only a handful of people left alive on the planet still in possession of their mental faculties. Everyone else has either kicked the bucket, mutated into some unspeakable abomination, or otherwise just surrendered themselves to lunacy.

As you’d expect, it’s now your job to deal with these sorry remnants of mankind, as you embark on an epic quest across the newly-christened land of Hysterra. Don’t worry though, you’ll never be alone in this endeavour. On the contrary, other dreamers can join your party at any juncture and, even if you don’t have the luxury of friends, you can still depend on your trusty Rail God for company.

Created by the “Priests of Leng” and birthed of “shoggoth-plasm” (if you read At the Mountains of Madness you might have a 30% chance of understanding what some of that means), the latter is basically a macabre union of flesh, iron and razor-sharp teeth that’s been fused together into the shape of a tentacled locomotive. One that is bound to forever serve you, so long as you continue to stoke its furnace fires. Not by feeding it coal as you might expect, but rather by performing arcane blood sacrifices.

A One-Way Track to Madness 

Suffice it to say, there’s a lot to get to grips with here, especially when it comes to the intricate survival mechanics (more on them later). Nevertheless, if you decide to stick with RailGods past its front-loaded tutorials and overwhelming lore dumps, then you’ll be rewarded with an enthralling adventure that keeps you coming back for more.

The premise is undeniably intriguing and establishes a world that’s filled with striking enemy types and atmospheric locales. One minute you’ll be skulking around a Bloodborne-esque fishing hamlet — trying to evade the barnacled beasties that call it home — the next you’ll be going toe-to-toe with demented lighthouse wickies or pillaging the wreckage of another, ill-fated voyager’s train.

Regardless of what objective you’re pursuing, you can always rely on the punchy isometric combat to hold your attention. While the moveset isn’t super expansive, tactics do still come into play as you’ll need to: consider where to strategically position yourself; carefully observe attack patterns; and make judicious use of cool-down abilities to gain the advantage. Sure, it’s hardly Sekiro, but there’s a pleasing amount of depth to what could, in lesser hands, have been a rudimentary exercise in button mashing.

If we did have a quibble with the combat, it’d be the fact that hotkey shortcuts appear to erase themselves after death and aren’t reinstated upon you salvaging leftover gear. Which just means that you’ve got to periodically go through the annoying hassle of rebinding each and every weapon or consumable in your loadout whenever you bite the dust (because Christ knows you haven’t got time to navigate those fiddly inventory menus in the heat of battle). Still, that’s hopefully a quick fix that can be taken care of while the game is being fine-tuned in Early Access.

On that note, it might not technically be a finished product yet, but a lot of RailGod’s systems already feel extremely well-balanced and thought through. Nowhere is this more apparent than with the game’s fresh twist on that well-worn trope of the sanity meter. You see, by exposing your character to the unimaginable terrors of Hysterra —  none of which are meant for human eyes —  you risk eroding what little in the way of mental health remains to them. Much like in Dredge or Amnesia, suffering a psychological breakdown of this kind largely translates to your vision going a tad blurry, the minimap getting clouded by obscuring fog, and certain interactions being cordoned off until you’ve simmered down. Pretty standard stuff really.

Where the developers have innovated, however, is that they actually incentivise you to go to the brink of madness. Because if you can repress enough trauma, then you’ll be able to head back to your Rail God and exchange all of that bottled-up anxiety for some nice upgrades.

That’s right, there’s a writhing mass of tentacular —   languishing in one of the front carriages of the train —   that is eager to unburden you of your insanity and hoover it up for its own nourishment. And this gelatinous mound will even gift you new powers in return for this feeding.

It’s a really creative example of an in-game economy, and one that stimulates a fun risk-reward dynamic, whereby you have to decide if it’s worth putting yourself in harm’s way to bank up more currency, or if you’d be better off playing it safe and holding onto what you already have. Plus, it’s just a smart way of tying the upgrade system to those quintessential Lovecraftian themes.

Disruption on the Line

Alas, sanity isn’t the only survival responsibility you’ll have to stay on top of and, unfortunately, the rest of them aren’t done with the same inventive spark.

You’ve got the usual hunger meter (not once but twice, on account of your Rail God’s sweet tooth for “earthling mush”) crafting mechanics that prevent you from getting your hands on any decent loot without an associated grind, and base-building obligations that honestly feel like you’re being saddled with tedious chores when you could instead be out adventuring. Not to mention, your inventory space is unreasonably small, forcing you to incessantly transfer items from container to container as you attempt to secure everything on your shopping list.

It’s all very convoluted and often halts story progression dead in its tracks. For instance, you might find yourself needing to stockpile an inordinate amount of resources just to build a workbench of a specific tier that then, in turn, allows you to craft a key piece of equipment, but not before you’ve researched its blueprint over at another station first. The end result is a lot of faffing around and waiting for queued actions to be completed; an issue that is compounded if you don’t have others in your party to expedite all of that graft.

This obviously comes with the territory when you’re playing a survival game and, should you have sufficient patience, then it can be rewarding to watch as your plucky little-engine-that-could gradually evolves into a “Great Locomotive”.  However, you should know upfront what you’re getting in for here. If you only want to fight scaly monsters and immerse yourself in a bizarre realm of Shoggoth trains and the interdimensional dreamers they’re bound to, then be prepared for a lot of DIY downtime.

Indeed, your mileage with RailGods of Hysterra will vary greatly depending on how much you enjoy doing things like hacking down virtual trees. Because you’re gonna have to commit an awful lot of time to gathering timber and other such materials if you want to unlock the more interesting content that this release has to offer. Whether or not that’s an enticing proposition is going to largely come down to personal taste but, for us, the game had just enough going for it to make all of that busywork feel worthwhile.

It won’t be for everyone then, but if Troglobytes can use the Early Access window to iron out some of the kinks and maybe streamline some of the more laborious processes, we could see this one garnering a dedicated following amongst fans of survival experiences and cosmic horror alike.

Preview code provided by publisher. RailGods of Hysterra launches into Steam Early Access on May 7.

The post ‘RailGods of Hysterra’ Shows Promise, But Certain Mechanics Bog Down the Experience [Early Access Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

What’s acceptable for a modestly budgeted indie, for instance, might not pass muster in the AAA arena. Meanwhile, those working on lucrative franchise IPs —beholden to micromanaging financiers and the whims of shareholders who’ve never once picked up a controller in their lives — aren’t always afforded the creative autonomy that a solo developer enjoys when toiling away on a pet project in their kitchen. Of course, blockbuster productions do conversely benefit from being far better resourced, far better staffed and far better promoted. So, there are pros and cons!

Price point is another thing that often factors into the equation and should absolutely be taken into account if you’re hoping to give new releases a fair shake. After all, it’d be silly to pit a $70 Naughty Dog extravaganza against something that’s going for just a couple of bucks on Steam and then expect them to be of a comparable standard.

That’s not to say that cheap titles can’t be as good as the latest Sony-backed megahit (quite the opposite, in fact, as the indie market is saturated with all kinds of creative and zeitgeisty stuff) but you’ve got to be realistic about how far their budgets will stretch. And that goes double for any game that’s being given away at no cost whatsoever.

“I Am in Hell. Help Me” 

To be clear, freebies shouldn’t get an automatic pass for being terrible, but we’d be lying if we said that we’re not inclined to go at least a little bit easier on them. I mean, it’s hard to feel short-changed when you literally haven’t paid a cent for something; regardless of how rough around the edges it ends up being.

Fortunately, we needn’t worry about handling The Flayed Man with such kid gloves, because it turns out that Snoring Dog Games’ new point-and-click adventure is pretty great. It may only be bite-sized (clocking in at just under an hour), but what it lacks in scale it more than makes up for in quality. And that’s impressive for something that doesn’t want a dime off gamers!

Opening in medias res, the title has you controlling a condemned sinner — the nature of whose transgression is withheld from the player — who finds themselves trapped in a hellscape that’s equal parts Dante Alighieri and Clive Barker. Bathed in the infernal light of a blood moon, it’s essentially a metaphysical holding area for those who have yet to atone for their past misdeeds; with its Saint Peter figure taking the form of a rotund demon that has absorbed the souls of the damned into its belly.

When you approach this terrifying gatekeeper, it explains that your every thought and action to date has been “scored and tallied” by unseen forces, and that this calculation will ultimately determine the manner of your afterlife. Before he can render said judgement, though, you’ll first have to pass a few intellectual and spiritual tests to prove your “discipline”.

That’s about as specific as the demon’s instructions ever get by the way. So, you’ll end up spending most of your purgatorial sojourn trying to decipher what this malevolent being with piss-poor communication skills actually wants [insert relatable joke about working a corporate 9-5 here].

Oh, and to make matters worse, you’ve also been deprived of everything that once made you human. That includes your thoughts, your memories, your voice and even your skin.

That’s right, this game ain’t called The Flayed Man for nothing! Indeed, the titular character has been stripped down to his musculature, with the odd patch of bone showing through in grisly detail. His body is falling to pieces, he can barely hold himself upright and we’re assured that every step he takes is the most exquisite agony [insert relatable joke about getting out of bed in your early 30s here].

No Skin, But Ample Brains

It’s against this narrative backdrop that you embark on a quest to pass through limbo and meet whatever fate is deemed most befitting of your version of The Flayed Man. From a gameplay perspective, this translates to you ordering him around using traditional point-and-click mechanics, conversing with select NPCs, and solving some tricky escape-room puzzles.

What’s interesting is that the challenge posed by the latter part of the game can — to a certain extent — be tailored. This is all thanks to an optional hint system that players are free to consult at their leisure. Should you choose to activate it, then a simple press of the “H” key will give you a nudge in the right direction whenever you get stumped by a brainteaser. Yet it crucially won’t spoon-feed you the answer either. It’s an elegant feature that allows you to decide how much help you do or do not want to receive, and can be a real sanity-preserver in those instances where you are thinking along the right lines but have just overlooked something minor.

While these clues are useful lifelines, however, I would maintain that playing with minimal assistance is still the best way to experience The Flayed Man. After all, its riddles are supremely enjoyable and you’ll derive far more satisfaction from tackling them on your own if you can. Not to mention, there are only so many variables to consider anyway (the entire title takes place within just four rooms and there’s a meagre handful of objects to interact with), so it hardly takes a Mensa calibre IQ to get to the bottom of things!

Beyond how cleverly thought out and well-balanced they are, the absolute best thing about the puzzles is the ingenious way that they integrate with the wider narrative. You’re not just going through the usual motions of cracking safe combinations or repairing ordinary fuse boxes (as you’ve no doubt done in countless other titles). Instead, everything Snoring Dog throws at you here somehow ties into the key themes of eternal damnation & punishment.

Basically, just imagine the kind of classic headscratchers you’d encounter in Monkey Island if they were masterminded by John Doe from Se7en. Case in point, you’ll have to intuit the grim purpose of a tied noose, while also figuring out how a shard of glass, a cat o’ nine tails and a buried grave are all supposed to fit together.

You’ll even have to pass a trial at one point to reclaim your avatar’s missing tongue so that he can, in turn, properly inspect objects and give the traditional commentary you’d expect from an adventure game protagonist. It’s a fun wrinkle that stops you from getting ahead of yourself in the early stages of the story, while also just being another deliciously dark way of putting The Flayed Man through the wringer.

Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged

On that note, our antihero’s torment isn’t limited only to the physical. On the contrary, he is given quite a psychological grilling too, most notably in the downtime between puzzles.

You see, after solving each conundrum, there will be an interlude wherein you have to stop by a confessional booth. Not to discuss your own indiscretions, as you might logically assume, but rather to pass judgement on other lost souls who are caught in this strange realm too. From the other side of the partition, they will lay bare their entire life stories, answer any questions you may have about the nature of their wrongdoings, and then accept whatever decision you arrive at.

The related dialogue trees aren’t super expansive, yet they nevertheless lead to thought-provoking quandaries that raise some interesting ideas about the nature of contrition. You’ll of course have to weigh up the severity of each crime, alongside other considerations like: the guilty party’s true intent; whether they seem to be genuinely remorseful; if they have done anything to atone; and any external factors that might have influenced their actions. For example, there’s a compelling philosophical debate early on about whether the relative trivialness of apple theft can be excused when it’s done for no reason other than to commit evil for evil’s sake.

Hovering in the back of your mind throughout these proceedings is the dreadful knowledge that The Flayed Man himself is also being evaluated (for an offence that could feasibly be much worse than any of those he’s jurying) and that your choices will ultimately determine how much mercy he is granted when the hourglass runs out. Indeed, there are three possible endings on the cards here, ranging in tone from the bleak to the extremely bleak. 

It’s a really intriguing mechanic, and one that I could see being expanded upon to great effect in a prospective follow-up if that’s what Snoring Dog Games wanted to do. In fact, you can envision almost everything promising about The Flayed Man being (ironically enough) fleshed out in a future project that has a little more money behind it. There are tons of ideas here that are explored well—  within the limitations of a freebie offering —  but you can see the potential to take them even further.

As it stands, this is still a terrific calling card debut that knows exactly what it wants to be, without ever overreaching, and it certainly bodes well for whatever the developers do try their hand at next. And, to reiterate, it’s completely free so you have no reason to miss out!

Better yet, if you can afford to support the team by kicking a couple of bucks their way over on itch.io or buy the Supporter Pack on Steam, then you might just help them build upon these auspicious foundations and deliver something truly special in the future.

The Flayed Man is available now on Steam and itch.io. Review code provided by developer.

The post ‘The Flayed Man’ Is a Bite-Sized Freebie With a Lot of Meat on Its Bones [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

The point is that it can be hard to google Home Sweet Home with any real specificity, and even filtering by the word “horror” won’t narrow the search down as much as you might think. For the uninitiated, it can therefore be a little confusing trying to discern what Home Sweet Home: Rebirth is meant to be a “Rebirth” of, exactly. Is it a revival of a forgotten Halloween knock-off? A continuation of a beloved streaming series? An adaptation of a seminal JRPG? Or a sequel to some Hallmark Channel-esque confection?

For the avoidance of any doubt then, this Thai-American coproduction is in fact based on a relatively obscure indie horror game that was developed by Yggdrazil Group and released episodically between 2017 and 2019. Although even die-hard fans will struggle to trace the film’s origins back to that source material, given how many creative liberties have been taken here.

If you haven’t played Yggrazil’s chiller, its USP was that it took the basic framework of your typical Outlast-style helpless horror game and steeped it in Southeast Asian folklore, as well as Buddhist spirituality. So rather than evading giant naked mental patients who were intent on rending you limb from limb, you instead had to evade giant naked “Preta” demons who were (equally) intent on rending you limb from limb.

In a nutshell, the story had you traversing a purgatorial realm known as “The Hinderance,” where sinners burdened with lingering earthly attachments are left to suffer for all eternity. Determined to rescue your wife from such a miserable fate, you embarked on a quest across this nightmarish plane; along the way facing off against the malevolent revenants of those who, in a past life, failed to adhere to one of the five Buddhist precepts (think the 10 Commandments only there’s less of them to remember).

It was an intriguing spin on what was, at the time, becoming an increasingly stale formula. Indeed, the prominent use of Thai culture — baked into everything from the enemy design to the heavy emphasis on Karma and the way you would often have to perform sacred rituals in order to progress — made the tired hide-and-seek gameplay feel brand new again.

The thing is, I might as well have just described the premise of that faith-based rom-com mentioned up top for all the resemblance this new movie bears to Yggrazil’s version of Home Sweet Home. Granted, the broadest of broad strokes have been carried over, with the limbo-like Hinderance featuring prominently and a confrontation between a novitiate monk and his necromancer nemesis taking centre stage (which is, superficially, what the final instalment in the game series was about).

Yet otherwise this strips away pretty much everything interesting and uniquely Thai about the original IP. The dialogue is almost entirely in English for a start, as our protagonists are cast as tourists visiting Bangkok, rather than locals as they were in the original.

Gone too are the culturally-specific antagonists — like the striking Krause or the spectral Thai dancer — as well as the traditional rituals that we’re used to combat them. In their place, we are instead saddled with far more generic hellspawn (e.g. insectoid monsters and winged demons) that serve only to clog up a bunch of CGI-laden, slow-mo-smothered action sequences that are themselves completely devoid of tension.

Speaking of which, the Home Sweet Home video game had its faults — from the repetitive stealth encounters to its clumsily fragmented release strategy, poorly explained objectives, and severe balancing issues — but one thing it undeniably excelled at was delivering the scares. More so than a lot of better horror outings in fact. Even seasoned genre veterans were liable to get freaked out by some of the more unsettling imagery it threw at you, and by the way it made you feel utterly powerless and alone whilst skulking around in the dark.

Which just makes it all the more mystifying that the team behind Rebirth have decided to make a sun-drenched, trigger-happy action movie! One that owes a far greater debt to something like World War Z than it does to any authentic Thai folklore or regional urban legends.

Even the inciting incident is overblown, with our lead character Jake (played by The Chronicles of Narnia’s William Moseley) getting caught in The Hinderance after failing to thwart a mass shooting in a shopping mall. Indeed, we’re not even 15 minutes in before the first shootout has occurred and any pretense that we’re in for a proper horror film has been decisively dropped; along with all of the Thai mythology.

And things only get more frenetic from thereon out, as Jake is enlisted in an ancient war against evil (by that aforementioned novice monk) and promptly embarks on a quest to stop the gates of Hell from opening. All of which he takes in his stride, because there’s no time whatsoever to let any of these crazy revelations or major developments breathe. We’ve just got to obligatorily move from one underwhelming set-piece to the next.

At a certain point, the film does threaten to liven up a little when the iconic boxcutter-girl from the game shows up, but any hopes that she will be as creepy as she was in her previous incarnation are dashed when it turns out she is nothing more than a recognisable cosplay for fans to do the Rick Dalton finger point meme at. Her tragic backstory has been totally ignored, her haunting wails have been replaced by generic clicking sounds, and the makeup isn’t half as grisly as it ought to be. Rendering her nothing but a shadow of her former self.

When compared to some of her fellow game alumni, however, boxcutter girl has been given the respectful A-list treatment. A towering, rotting corpse with one glowing red eye and a mouth the size of a pinhole, the Preta had a really cool design before, yet Rebirth inexplicably morphs him as a lame Attack on Titan knock-off. And as for the Dancer, the most representation she gets here is via a half-hearted easter egg in a costume store.

The movie does occasionally gesture towards its alleged source material by including some other tiny scraps of familiar iconography (like the Nona-metal knife and the blood portals), but it’s all so carelessly done and unsatisfying. In fact, their inclusion recalls how Christophe Gans would haphazardly shoehorn classic characters and locations into his Silent Hill movies, without giving any thought as to why they were so popular in the first place or what relevance they had to the story.

Still, that empty fan service arguably works better than the other half of Rebirth, in which we follow Jake’s wife (a committed Urassaya Sperbund) traversing a bland zombie apocalypse over in the real world. I say “zombie” because, for all intents and purposes, that’s what the threat here ultimately boils down to. The script insists that they are just regular people who have been possessed by wicked entities from the Hindrance, but if it looks like a zombie, moves like a zombie and groans like a zombie, then it’s a fucking zombie in my book. Anyway, this whole section of the film is an arduous slog; featuring incredibly weak gore, little in the way of narrative thrust, and ineptly staged chases that just make the creatures in question look easily outmanoeuvred.

Which brings me to the most important criticism of all. Putting aside issues of fidelity and pedantry over the adaptation, Home Sweet Home: Rebirth just isn’t very good when judged according to its own merits. Deeming the acting to be “inconsistent” would be an incredibly charitable understatement and the VFX are also iffy across the board. Not to mention, the exposition-heavy dialogue is very clunky in the final stretch.

Truth be told, the production veers dangerously close to Uwe Boll territory at times. Yet there are a few saving graces that prevent it from being a complete train wreck. Although it feels out of place, the John Wick-esque fight choreography is surprisingly solid, for instance, while directors Alexander Kiesl and Steffen Hacke get some decent mileage out of their drone camera. Plus, I suspect the Thailand Film Board (namedropped in the credits) will be pleased with how attractive Bangkok is made to look in the extensive montage sequences that go out of their way to show you how nice the city’s various hotels, marketplaces and service staff are.

Of course, that last point isn’t going to be of much solace to your average viewer yet after a while I did start to wonder who this was made for anyway. It’s not anywhere near scary enough for horror audiences, nor is the action impressive enough to wow those craving spectacle.

Meanwhile, gamers are going to be outright pissed given that— much like Netflix’s recent The Electric State — this is an adaptation that has only the loosest possible connection to the material it is ostensibly based on. Everything from the tone to the visual style and even the genre has been changed to make a dumb-as-a-rock action flick. Why they decided to take that approach (when it’s presumably costlier than an intimate horror) is anybody’s guess but, suffice it to say, it ain’t gonna appease existing fans and I’m doubtful the shoddy end result will win over many new ones either.

Which is a shame, because there was real potential in this IP. Unfortunately, it seems for the time being that Home Sweet Home peaked with its janky, albeit effective, gaming debut.

The post ‘Home Sweet Home: Rebirth’ Review – Horror Movie Adaptation Won’t Please Fans of the Video Game appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

So posits Doctoral Researcher, Kaytlin Blackmore, in TerrorBytes: The Evolution of Horror Gaming’s debut episode. It’s a rhapsodic reflection on how the genre in question has managed to endure across the generations, in the face of ever-shifting consumer tastes, adversarial cultural forces, and unfavourable regime changes on the publishing front. More importantly, though, it’s just a fundamentally warm and fuzzy sentiment that resonates throughout the entirety of this community-backed docuseries.

Constructed in a way that recalls the reverent originals that you often find while browsing Shudder (i.e. Horror’s Greatest or The 101 Scariest Horror Movie Moments of All Time), TerrorBytes is first & foremost an admiring look at survival horror over the ages. So rather than scrutinising the genre with any kind of critical distance or academic neutrality, its contributors are far more inclined to wax lyrical and talk about how much canonical texts like, say, Eternal Darkness mean to them.

Their giddy enthusiasm for Resident Evil 4’s opening village salvo or the cat-and-mouse dynamic that characterises Alien: Isolation is infectious, and before long you’ll find yourself wrapped up in a similar state of euphoria. Itching to replay an old favourite or maybe even try out something new for the very first time.

In that sense, the doc can be best described as a love-letter to survival horror, made by the genre’s biggest fans for its biggest fans. Of course, this emphasis on cheerleading over analysis does mean that TerrorBytes is unlikely to win over anybody not invested in the subject matter to begin with. But if you just want to hear passionate people gush about their earliest visit to the Spencer Mansion (or whatever other formative experience popped their horror cherry so to speak) then this will deliver that in spades.

None of which is to say that TerrorBytes is completely devoid of substance, however. On the contrary, there’s sharp discussion of hidden gems, as well as some fresh behind-the-scenes tidbits that might deepen your appreciation of those familiar classics we’ve all played a thousand times before.

The latter insights come courtesy of an impressive lineup of scholars, developers and industry bigwigs that director Richard Moss and Producer Daniel Richardson have roped in as interviewees. For example, Jeremy Blaustein — resident translator and localizer for Konami during the studio’s heyday — is able to articulately unpack the emotional depths of Silent Hill 2 with his unique perspective on the material. 

Elsewhere, Sam Barlow humorously relates how he was able to get publishers to buy into his combat-free vision for Silent Hill: Shattered Memories by appealing to their ingrained understanding of Pac-Man, while Alex Aniel — author of the terrific, unofficial Resident Evil history, “Itchy, Tasty” — is able to shed light on Capcom’s rival IP.  We even get some good technical insights from people like foley artist, Dawn Lunsford, who breaks down her sound design for the notorious “Rat King” encounter from The Last of Us Part II. In short, these are authorities who really know their stuff and are keen to celebrate it.

And yet the juiciest morsels actually come from those who have worked on less-than-stellar titles and who are more than happy to get real candid about the compromises they had to make along the way. Case in point, there’s a fascinating section wherein veterans from the Silent Hill: Homecoming team describe how they were pressured to make that game more closely align with the 2006 Christophe Gans movie (as well as to shoehorn Pyramid Head into the plot for no adequate reason). Likewise, Brian Gomez, writer of the Clive Barker-branded FPS Jericho, explains how one higher-up on that project insisted on completely redesigning a female character in order to cater to his own fetishistic whims.

It’s when it dips into these unvarnished anecdotes that TerrorBytes gets super intriguing but, even when it’s not being gossipy, it’s still just a pleasure to hear from all of the passionate voices that have been assembled. Speaking of which, it’s difficult to list all of the accomplished talking heads here because there are just so many incredible gets.

Among others, you’ll hear from: Alone in the Dark scribe Hubert Chardot; legendary composer Akira Yamaoka; DUSK creator Dave Szymanski; The Angry Video Game Nerd himself, James Rolfe; the one and only John Romero, and some bloke called John Carpenter. They even found room for Slipknot frontman Corey Taylor at one point. In fact, there are so many interesting people on display that they sometimes pass you by in a blur, with you barely having a moment to scan the lower third overlays telling you who is who!

Fortunately, editor Connor O’Keane is able to piece the tremendous amount of footage he’s been lumped with together in a way that always feels flowing and coherent. In fact, the craft is impeccable across the entire board here. Apparently, the two episodes we watched for reviewing purposes weren’t quite 100% finished, but you couldn’t tell. As it stands, the opening animation is brilliantly realised, the transitions are slick, and your attention is held throughout by some well-chosen archival cutaways. If it’s going to look even more polished after a final editing pass, then there can be no complaints whatsoever about TerrorBytes’ technical execution.

The first episode, affectionately titled “Enter the Survival Horror,” is especially well packaged considering how much history it tries to compress into just 60 minutes. Taking us on a whistle-stop tour of the genre that starts off with the arcade coin guzzler Sinistar, and goes right up to last year’s indie darling Crow Country — stopping along the way to pay respects to Sweet Home, Clock Tower, and Dead Space — it certainly manages to cram a lot in.

One thing that helps make it digestible is that Moss and co. have shrewdly elected to break up the chronological structure with some thematic mini-chapters (looking at the evolution of the final girl trope, for instance, as well as the emergence of stalker enemies and the often turbulent journey that Japanese franchises have to endure when Western studios are given custody over them). One particular highlight is a section looking at how necessity really was the mother of invention back in the PSOne era, as the confines of that older hardware demanded some really ingenious workarounds from developers.

The second episode that we saw, “Lethal Licenses,” was admittedly more loosey-goosey. It’s meant to be an overview of horror titles that have been adapted from pre-existing sources — which sounds like an awesome premise — but it goes off topic a few too many times and its focus seems to have primarily been dictated by who they could get to appear on camera. As such, we end up with a disproportionate amount of coverage being devoted to the final season of Telltale’s The Walking Dead (presumably because its writer was available to chat about it), while there’s also a lengthy puff piece about Dead by Daylight near the end that feels dangerously close to turning into a corporate livestream. Yet it’s crucially never dull, and there are still some cool segments scattered throughout, including one about the delayed production of a Buffy the Vampire Slayer game.

All in all, if you have even the vaguest of interest in survival horror, then you owe it to yourself to watch TerrorBytes. You might occasionally find yourself craving a little more depth, but it’s a fun, well-made series that has clearly been crafted with care, amplifies a lot of smart voices, and one that will remind you of why you fell in love with the genre in the first place.

TerrorBytes: The Evolution of Horror Gaming will be released as a 5-part docuseries in April 2025. You can pre-order the series now. Previews for the first two episodes were provided by CreatorVC.

The post Initial Episodes of ‘TerrorBytes’ Docuseries Are Well-Crafted Love Letters to Horror Gaming [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Yet, against all odds, the genre has done quite well for itself this year. Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is dominating the technical categories, The Substance has found itself as an unlikely contender for four of the “Big Five” awards, and even Alien: Romulus has gotten a look in for its VFX work.

With that being said, normally we’d be banging the drum for greater horror representation at the Oscars, but it doesn’t feel particularly warranted this time around. There’s already a strong line-up in place.

Of course, us gorehounds will never be wholly satisfied until our creepy and kooky culture is as widely celebrated within the annals of Hollywood as it is within our own little bubble. Which is why we have decided to take a moment (on the eve of the 97th Academy Awards) to highlight some missed opportunities to celebrate even more achievements in this genre over the past twelve months. Without further ado, let’s see who else should have made the cut.

Honourable Mentions: Best Sound for A Quiet Place: Day One; Best Actress for Lily-Rose Depp and Best Director for Robert Eggers in Nosferatu; Best Makeup and Hairstyling for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice; and Best Actor for Justice Smith in I Saw the TV Glow.

Best Actress: Nell Tiger Free (The First Omen)

Credit where it’s due, the Academy has whittled down a pretty respectable shortlist for their best actress prize this year and there are no glaring bad calls that need to be swapped out (Karla Sofía Gascón’s social media tirades notwithstanding). Plus, it’s the only acting category that has some decent genre representation to begin with, courtesy of Demi Moore’s portrayal of fading superstar, Elisabeth Sparkle, in The Substance.

Moore definitely earned her flowers here, but if we were to pick a runner-up for a horror leading lady it would have to be Nell Tiger Free in The First Omen. Showing an extraordinary commitment to the part — that goes well beyond what anyone could reasonably expect from a prequel to a franchise that has only ever seen diminishing returns — she is a true force to be reckoned with. In fact, she manages to carry the whole film without needing to rely on her more seasoned co-stars, like Bill Nighy or Ralph Ineson.

As novitiate Margaret Daino — uncovering a profane conspiracy within the Vatican Church — Free deftly weaves between antipodal extremes. By turn, she has to play: fiercely devout; sweet naivety; blubbering fear; righteous indignation; timid repression; and, eventually, uninhibited ferity. What’s most impressive is that she throws herself into each of these emotional states without a hint of vanity holding her back, as best demonstrated by her astonishingly raw, antenatal breakdown that’s been favourably compared to a similar scene from Żuławski’s Possession. If ever there was an attention-grabbing nominee clip for Oscar night, it’d be that one.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s review of The First Omen here.

Best Actress: Willa Fitzgerald (Strange Darling)

Strange Darling’s twisty- turny plotting necessitates that we remain tight-lipped about Willia Fitzgerald’s turn as “The Lady,” lest we risk spoiling some of the thriller’s biggest surprises. However, what we can say is that, if she didn’t so believably sell her oftentimes contradictory and mercurial character, then those major rug pulls wouldn’t work half as well as they do.

It’s a demanding role upon which the entire movie hinges and it asks an awful lot of its performer, who must be at once sympathetic but also unpredictable and difficult to read. As the deadly game of cat-and-mouse between her and Kyle Gallner’s “The Demon” escalates, Fitzgerald has to give you just enough insight into The Lady’s mindset to keep you invested without ever overplaying her hand. And it’s a delicate balance act that she absolutely nails. If you’ve seen Strange Darling, and can interpret our vague description, then you’ll know exactly what we’re talking about.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s review of Strange Darling here.

Best Sound: Longlegs

You’d be hard-pressed to identify a movie — released within the past twelve months — that’s bolder with its audio mix than Longlegs. Osgood Perkins’ occult thriller may have split audiences right down the middle when it came to its languorous pacing, far-fetched plot twists and hyperbolic marketing campaign, but one thing that cannot be denied is just how effectively its soundscape gets under your skin. In a way that feels almost violating.

Sound designer, Eugenio Battaglia, employed a number of daring and experimental techniques to accomplish this: smuggling demonic messages into the film via backmasking; layering a subliminal “hell heartbeat” into the foley; and helping Nic Cage unleash his inner satanic energy by pitching the actor’s voice to an electric guitar. The end result is a mix that (appropriately enough, given Longlegs’ core themes of mind control) worms its way into your brain and festers there for days.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s review of Longlegs here.

Best Editing: The Substance

Truth be told, Coralie Fargeat’s exemplary body horror flick could probably hold its own in the audio department as well. After all, who could forget the viscerally unpleasant symphony of cracking bones, peeling fingernails, and Dennis Quaid noisily lapping up shrimp that it subjects you to?

However, in the interest of spreading the love more evenly, we decided to go with Longlegs in that category. I mean, it’s not like The Substance has been given the cold shoulder this awards season. On the contrary, it’s done remarkably well for a movie that’s indebted to the works of Brian Yuzna and Frank Henenlotter. I, for one, never thought I’d live to see the day that a film that ends with someone vomiting up their own boob would emerge as a viable Best Picture candidate. Yet here we are!

All of that being said, The Substance might have an impressive five Oscar nods under its belt, but I still think there was room for one more. Specifically, in the Best Editing field. As it stands, the actual shortlist for this category feels like a slapdash grouping of the respective Academy branch’s favourite overall films of the year. But (aside from maybe Anora and The Brutalist), none of them do anything especially noteworthy in terms of editing.

The Substance, on the other hand, is assembled very deliberately and with a sense of rhythmic propulsion that immerses you in Elisabeth Sparkle’s breakdown. Just take a moment to appreciate the comedic intercutting in that infamous kitchen scene, for example, or the way that an otherwise mundane transition from night to day is rendered far more interesting by synching it up to Elisabeth’s channel surfing. There’s so much creativity on display here and it’s a shame that it hasn’t got more attention.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s review of The Substance here.

Best Adapted Screenplay: Nosferatu

As someone who spends far too much time agonising over every single word they use in a piece of writing, I am in awe of Robert Eggers’ masterful command of language. His insistence on authentically capturing the speech of very particular historical epochs (whether that’s 17th-century puritanical America, Scandinavia in the Middle Ages, or New England’s nautical scene circa the 1800s) is a consistent highlight of his output.

And, just as with every other facet of his filmmaking, you’ve got to respect how much of a stickler he is for detail when it comes to how his characters talk. Paying keen attention to the minutiae of regional dialects, the evolution of syntax over the ages, and archaisms that have long since fallen out of favour, each line of dialogue Eggers pens feels painstakingly researched and yet somehow unforced.

This preternatural gift of the gab is especially evident throughout his latest offering, with Nosferatu containing some of the scribe’s best monologues and quotes to date (“I have wrestled with the Devil as Jacob wrestled the Angel in Penuel,” “ I am an appetite, nothing more”). For a remake that hews very close to its silent-era forbear, this eloquent dialogue makes Eggers’ version feel truly fresh and — even with all of the stellar production values that are put up on screen— is what ultimately stood out most to me.

It might be a bit showier than some of the nominees handpicked by the Academy but, surely, if there is anywhere that we ought to be celebrating distinctive voices in cinema, it’s with the Oscars’ dedicated screenplay categories.

Read more about Robert Eggers’ take on Nosferatu in Bloody Disgusting’s exclusive interview here.

Best Supporting Actor: Bill Skarsgård (Nosferatu)

Bill Skarsgård’s stint as Count Orlok was never destined for awards glory, even if it was showered with adulation by the viewing public. The simple fact of the matter is that his undead plague carrier is obscured by too many prosthetic appliances, shrouds of darkness and shallow focus cinematography for a great deal of Nosferatu’s runtime. And the Academy generally likes to see an actor’s work play out in front of their eyes before handing over a little golden statuette. With there also being a valid argument that the Hair & Makeup team (who are rightfully being honoured in their own field this awards season) are the artists truly responsible for bringing Orlok’s presence to the screen, you can understand why Skarsgård isn’t getting much notice. But that also means that we’re overlooking the unrecognisable transformation that the Swedish actor underwent.

Beyond just sticking that controversial moustache to his upper lip, Skarsgård completely changes his entire gait, body language and vocal register to become the imposing Orlok (even going so far as to work with an opera singer to lower his voice by a full octave). Not to mention, he also convincingly delivers many of his lines in an extinct Dacian tongue without it ever sounding silly. Far from it, he actually manages to make the vampire archetype both mesmerising and menacing again. Which is no small feat in a post What We Do In The Shadows climate!

Read Bloody Disgusting’s review of Nosferatu here.

Best Leading Actor: Hugh Grant (Heretic)

If voters were reluctant to praise somebody caked in prosthetics and off-putting facial hair pieces, then maybe Hugh Grant would have been the safer alternative for the Oscars. The Rom-Com stalwart simultaneously played to and against type in last year’s Heretic, portraying one the most sadistic (but also kind of disarming) horror antagonists in recent memory.

Essentially the final boss you’d encounter at the end of a r/atheism forum, his Mr. Reed passes the time by luring innocent missionaries to his house and then refusing to let them leave until they either agree with him on all matters theological, or else suffer for failing to. But he does it in that dapper, self-effacing way that only Hugh Grant can get away with.

In a lot of respects, it’s a pretty typical performance from the actor’s new “roughish cad” era, consistent with his turns in films like Paddington 2, The Gentlemen, or Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. Yet by cranking the sinisterness up just a fraction of a degree, it turns out to be an absolute revelation. One that proves Grant might just have a future in the bonafide villain market if he ever wants to delve further into the dark side.

No wonder the Golden Globes decided to commend his work with a “Best Actor – Musical or Comedy” nod. In our opinion, the Academy should have followed suit, if for nothing else than that glorious Jar Jar Binks impression.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s review of Heretic here.

Best International Feature Film: Various

This category is always a tricky one, thanks to its rigid eligibility criteria that can disqualify otherwise worthy nominees on the grounds of their domestic release dates, the language that is predominately used, and whether they’ve aired on television abroad prior to their theatrical exhibition in the States. It’s a minefield that’s led to some unfortunate snubs based on nothing but mere technicalities.

Bearing that in mind, some of the best international horror films that we’re going to namedrop here might not necessarily meet the stringent eligibility criteria for the Oscar. But, fuck it, they’re the ones that would have made the cut in a just world.

First up we have Cloud (which, incidentally, was put forward as Japan’s submission for the 97th Academy Awards). This flick saw Pulse director Kiyoshi Kurosa deliver another compelling psychological thriller that further explored his preoccupation with modern technology. Although certainly an acquired taste, Spain’s The Coffee Table earned its social media notoriety and a rave review from Stephen King by being legitimately shocking in a way that few Hollywood productions ever manage. And, finally, Exhuma broke box office records in its native South Korea while also translating well overseas, with our own Megan Navarro praising it as a fun, gory, creepy folk horror “with a lot on its mind.” Surely there was room for at least one of these kick-ass imports at the Oscars!

Read more about Bloody Disgusting’s favourite international horror films of 2024 here.

Best Director: Jane Schoenbrun (I Saw the TV Glow)

One of the (many) sticks being used to beat Oscar frontrunner Emilia Pérez is the fact that the musical melodrama is fundamentally disinterested in its own subject matter. Or, more accurately, its director is.

Indeed, Jacques Audiard has drawn the ire of detractors for brazenly asserting that he didn’t need to research Mexico — you know, the movie’s primary setting and focus of its half-baked social commentary — before rolling the camera, arguing instead that: “What [he] needed to know [he] already knew.” Likewise, the uncurious filmmaker has come under fire for neglecting to do any homework whatsoever on the trans experience. Which, again, is pretty central to the story he has chosen to tell! Rather than coming from a place of sincerity then, it feels very much like Audiard has tried to coast his way to critical acclaim by exploiting a number of provocative hot-button topics.

If the Academy were serious about recognising LGBTQ+ voices, they’d have been much better off giving his spot to Jane Schoenbrun. I don’t mean to pitch two trans stories against each other here in some kind of Highlander-esque “there can be only one” duel, but it just seems nuts to me that Emilia Pérez is getting all the love when I Saw the TV Glow is infinitely more authentic and heartfelt.

Compared to the cisgendered Audiard, it is evident from minute one that Schoenbrun has a much deeper understanding of the subject matter in question. They are able to draw upon very specific autobiographical details and their own lived experiences to communicate what it’s like to feel like you’re in the wrong skin, and there’s a sense of vulnerability to their finished product that’s utterly absent from the considerably more hyped Netflix original.

As someone who has no frame of reference whatsoever for the challenges trans people face, I Saw the TV Glow helped me to appreciate the significance of the “egg crack” moment, made me understand the anxiety that comes with watching time slip away while you struggle to embrace your true self, and put me through the wringer with its devastating gut-punch of an ending. That Schoenbrun was able to do this through visual metaphor and supernatural allegory (with little in the way of on-the-nose dialogue) is a triumph of directing and an achievement that deserved to be celebrated on the world stage.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s review of I Saw the TV Glow here.

The post Oscars 2025: 9 Other Horror Films & Performances That Deserved Nominations This Year appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Yet no such pearl of wisdom has ever been as upfront and revealing as the one that greets you upon booting up Dreamcore. Cautioning that “patience and observation are key” here, it’s one of the most accurate loading screen tips I’ve ever read in any game.  Because both of those qualities will indeed be sorely tested during an average playthrough of Montraluz’s new offering.

Especially your patience.

Every time I saw the undeniable, almost taunting, message appear at the bottom of my TV, I thought to myself: “truer words have surely never been spoken.” For whatever critical faculties I may possess, I’ll never be able to review this title quite so succinctly as its own creative team did with that doozy of a pull quote.

I mean, how else could you describe the maddening experience of stumbling around a Tartarean labyrinth, trying to follow the sound of some incessant, shrill beeping that — for all you know — is hidden behind an imperceptible crawlspace or some other unseen crevice that would allude even the most seasoned of escape room veterans?

I think the tedium of it all broke me on a psychological level to be honest because, halfway through one of these infernal mazes, I found myself cackling like a despondent Lovecraft protagonist. One who had resigned themselves to a grim fate, while staring into the stygian abyss and traumatically muttering the phrase “patience and observation.”

That’s how I responded to it anyway, although I imagine the developers were going more for “mysterious & atmospheric” here and less for “infuriating & downright monotonous.”

You see, Dreamcore is an attempt to ride on the coattails of The Backrooms collaborative fiction project (arguably a couple of years too late) by plunging you into a number of seemingly unpopulated liminal spaces that have no geographical logic whatsoever. There’s an endless suburbia with nary a sole in sight, an underground swimming pool complex that appears to go on forever, and tons upon tons of pitch-black corridors that you’re guaranteed to get lost in.

In each instance, all you’re charged with doing is finding the way out. But unlike in, say, one of Silent Hill‘s infamous puzzle-box environments, there’s no way to solve these mazes with either intellect or deductive reasoning. Instead, it’s an exercise in stubborn persistence as you absent-mindedly turn one corner after another, praying that the next might just yield an exit.

And that’s really all there is to it. There’s none of the intrigue, originality or simple-yet-effective creepiness that made The Backrooms such a phenomenon online. The game is billed as a psychological horror featuring puzzles (at least, those are the keywords that it flatters itself with in the marketing material) and, personally, I think those claims ought to be investigated under some kind of trade descriptions law. Because the puzzles never amount to anything more than trial-and-error wayfinding — with neither rhyme nor reason governing how you should proceed — and the horror — psychological or otherwise — is flat-out non-existent.

Some may feel compelled to come rushing to Montraluz’s defence on the latter point, arguing that the scares are not meant to be in-your-face or obvious here, but rather that it’s more about atmosphere. The problem is, I don’t think there is much of that either!

Dreamcore is all about the so-called “liminal” (a word that is increasingly being divested of meaning, now apparently signifying somewhere that is just a bit yellow and empty), yet it doesn’t understand what makes things like The Backrooms so compelling. It’s not enough to merely drop you in a fluorescent-lit corridor and call it a day. There has to be more going on under the hood.

Credit where it’s due, the subterranean swimming baths do at least have a couple of uncanny visuals that stuck with me; like a water slide in the dead centre of an eerily-still pool and a cavernous, water-logged hallway that branches off into a dozen other lagoons. However, even that starts to get repetitive after a while and any sense of unease is quickly replaced with mind-numbing boredom. These images might work as spooky pictures that you momentarily glance at on Reddit, but they’re not enough to sustain a video game.

As for what you’ll find in these non-linear worlds, there’s vanishingly little to discover. Depending on the route you take, you might find some beach balls with vaguely off-putting faces drawn on them, a recurring eye motif that’s plastered on the odd wall here and there, or observation stations that imply you’re being watched by some shadowy organisation. None of it ever pays off or results in anything close to an incident, however.

Again, defenders will probably argue that’s the point and that you’re meant to just get immersed in all of the abstract vibes Dreamcore is giving off. Maybe I’m just a philistine though, because I derive absolutely nothing from wandering silent hallways for hours on end. Other than getting really fucking annoyed by it!

The Steam page proudly boasts that Montraluz’s game has no jump scares or monster encounters to speak of. That’s all well and good (those aren’t prerequisites for horror after all) but there has to be something in their place. A disturbing idea. An unsettling mood. A sense of dread. A fun puzzle that doesn’t boil down to “Guess which door leads to the incessantly beeping elevator”. Literally anything!

Instead, all this one gives you —   besides some admittedly authentic looking, VHS style graphics, courtesy of Unreal Engine 5 —   is a whole lot of nothing!

Review code provided by publisher. Dreamcore will be released on the January 23rd on PC via Steam, PlayStation, and Xbox platforms.

The post ‘Dreamcore’ Frustrates in Its Attempts at Riding ‘The Backrooms’ Phenomenon [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Of course, this isn’t the only example of predictions proving spectacularly wrong in hindsight. For every uncanny act of augury pulled off by The Simpsons, there’s a prominent banker advising his client not to invest in the Ford Motor Company — on the grounds that “the automobile is only a novelty” — a record label writing off The Beatles as a mere fad, or Robert Metcalfe dismissively claiming that the internet will “catastrophically collapse” by the mid-90s. All true stories, look them up! Hell, prior to setting sail, the Captain of the Titanic boasted that he couldn’t “conceive of any vital disaster happening to [the] vessel,” which is such a specific tempting of fate that it almost feels like it should lead into a contrapuntal It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia title card.

Hopefully, our own predictions aren’t quite so astounding off base, as we now look ahead to our Top Ten Most Anticipated Horror Games of 2025. Because we’d hate to have egg on our face after ridiculing all of those historical halfwits!

The problem is that there’s no such thing as a sure bet in this industry, and even the most auspicious of releases (with the best behind-the-scenes pedigree and confidence-inspiring promotional materials) can let you down. Nevertheless, we’re feeling pretty good about our selections here, either due to the exciting talent attached or because their ideas seem too promising to fail.

If nothing else, this list should serve as a fun time capsule in around twelve months’ time when we revisit it and see how well it holds up. After all, some of these picks might not live up to the hype, while others may fail to materialise whatsoever, and others still could be usurped by dark horses that aren’t even on our radar yet. With all of that said, here are the horror games we’re currently looking forward to most in the new year!

Honourable Mentions: Religious horror The Stone of Madness, supernatural open-world adventure Hell Is Us, a pair of big-name sequels in the form of Little Nightmares 3 and Death Stranding 2: On the Beach, and the bizarre theme park management sim Mars Attracts!

10) FBC Firebreak

Remedy’s intricate world-building and offbeat storytelling most obviously lend themselves to solo experiences like Alan Wake 2, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for branching out every so often. And a cooperative, PvE shooter set in the Control universe has potential, so long as it can retain the oddball sense of humour that made its forebear so appealing.

FBC Firebreak enlists you — alongside two friends — in the titular bureau’s emergency response unit. Working together as a team, you’ll have to defend the Oldest House from strange “paranatural” invaders, over the course of several action-packed missions that are designed to be replayed over and over again. Think Left 4 Dead crossed with the SCP Foundation.

The jury’s still out on whether Control can make the transition to multiplayer without losing its very singular identity, but if the announcement trailer is anything to go by then there will at least be some of that signature Remedy weirdness here (as evidenced by the final shot, in which an unassuming garden gnome is used as a Weapon of Mass Destruction).

FBC Firebreak will launch for PlayStation 5, the Xbox Series, and PC in 2025.

9) Paleophage

I was going to dedicate an entry here to Saber Interactive’s upcoming Jurassic Park: Survival, as it’s the game I am most eagerly looking forward to right now. However, featuring it in a list of anticipated titles for 2025 feels like wishful thinking, especially since we haven’t glimpsed a shred of footage outside of the announcement trailer. As bitter a pill as it may be to swallow, I’ll just have to make peace with the fact that this one is probably still a couple of years away.

Fellow terrible lizard enthusiasts needn’t despair though, because Palegophage appears to be much further along in its development cycle. Positioned as a sort of heir apparent to Dino Crisis (a fossilised IP that Capcom is stubbornly opposed to resurrecting), this one is an horror-action hybrid that pits you against prehistoric beasties that are running amok in a small midwestern town.

Creator LogDev has been chronicling their solo developer journey on social media for the past 12 months and — despite the inevitable resourcing constraints they’re up against — it seems to be progressing nicely. The dinosaur models are very impressive, the over-the-shoulder combat looks intense, some classic Resident Evil style puzzles have been thrown in for good measure and, apparently, there’s also a dynamic enemy encounter system that will ensure no two playthroughs are ever the same. It’s an underdog that I am 100% rooting for, if for no other reason than I have a big Dino Crisis shaped void in my heart that’s in urgent need of filling.

Palegophage is being developed for PC and PS5. You can add it to your Steam Wishlist here.

8) Heartworm

Here at Bloody Disgusting, we always appreciate a dose of old-school survival horror that evokes the look, the feel and the underlying design principles of PSOne-era classics. Hence why we championed both Crow Country and Fear the Spotlight in our best games of 2024 list.

That being said, these retro throwbacks are becoming increasingly ubiquitous in the indie scene and the law of diminishing returns is guaranteed to come into effect sooner or later. Before long, relying on the charms of low-fi graphics, fixed camera angles, tank controls and familiar inventory management screens won’t be enough to win people over anymore.

Now, granted, all those boxes have been ticked in DreadXP’s forthcoming Heartworm (as well as the obligatory UI that displays your avatar’s heart rate). Yet we’re singling this particular title out because there seems to be a bit more going on under the hood, besides pure nostalgia bait.

Namely, we are intrigued by its story that revolves around a woman-in-mourning’s search for proof of the afterlife, which she believes will help her process her grief. To accomplish this goal, she’ll head off on a perilous quest into the mountains where, according to urban legend, there is a house that has a special connection to the other side.

Developer Vincent Adinolfi is leaning into the more psychological aspect of horror here, rather than the B-movie schlock of Resident Evil, and it sounds like there’s gonna be real thematic depth and emotional weight to proceedings. Oh, and also a giant spider the size of a bus!

Heartworm is set for a 2025 release on Steam. A free demo is available to download now.

7) DOOM: The Dark Ages

It’s DOOM but with a biomechanical, jet-powered dragon that you can fly around and use to rain hellfire down upon your foes. What else do you need to know!?

If that cogent sales pitch doesn’t have you hammering the “pre-order” button right away then consider this: The Dark Ages will also allow you to pilot a super mech, while furnishing you with a gun that grinds up skulls into tiny projectile shards, as well as a frisbee shield that’s serrated with chainsaw-like teeth. And if you’re still not convinced, then I honestly don’t know how to relate to you as a person. Our differences are simply irreconcilable, and we might as well be from different worlds.

Anyway, I’m not certain that id Software’s rebooted DOOM continuity was in any danger of getting stale (after all, who could ever tire of Glory Killing demons to that kick-ass soundtrack?) But were a dramatic shakeup actually required, then a quasi-medieval prequel that doubles down on all of the heavy metal imagery is pretty much the perfect way to pull it off. Just hook this one to our veins already!

DOOM: The Dark Ages will be heading to PlayStation 5, PC and the Xbox Series next year, when it will also debut on Game Pass.

6) Silent Hill f

Konami’s revival of the Silent Hill franchise (which, lest we forget, is a legacy IP that they themselves bungled) has been something of a mixed bag. On the one hand, Bloober Team’s remake of Silent Hill 2 managed to overcome initial fan scepticism and went on to garner critical acclaim, as well as numerous GOTY nods.

Conversely, The Short Message was a lame, pandering, dated, stupid, ill-conceived, sledgehammer-blunt and deeply cringey attempt at social commentary; the content of which would have been deemed too preachy for an Afterschool Special. Not to mention it culminated in one of the very worst chase sequences I’ve ever had the displeasure of enduring.

And then there was that God-awful Ascension thing that was monetised in the most obnoxious ways imaginable. Seriously, I’ve seen telescamming operations that treated their targets’ finances with a greater level of respect. I mean, who’d have thought that the infamous Pyramid Head pachinko machine would one day cease to be the most embarrassing thing associated with this franchise?

Bearing that in mind, any new entry in the Silent Hill saga from this point onwards feels like a bit of a toss-up. Either we’ll get a sublime masterpiece or an absolute dumpster fire of epic proportions. Which is perversely kind of fun because it means that, one way or another, it’s going to leave an impression!

File Silent Hill f under the heading of “cautious optimism” then. The first mainline entry in the series for over 10 years, it’s set to take things in a enticing new direction. For a start, the action has been relocated from small-town Maine to rural Japan circa the 1960s. In addition to the picturesque change of scenery, it also appears to be tapping into botanophobia; with the teaser showcasing all kinds of unnerving floral imagery that is at once beautiful and haunting.

Fingers crossed then that this one is going to maintain the standard upheld by the Silent Hill 2 remake, and finally get us excited about the franchise’s future again and not just its past.

Silent Hill f does not currently have an official release date, but Konami has been steadily releasing new entries in this series ever since 2022, so it might be closer than you think.

5) Cronos: The New Dawn

Speaking of that Silent Hill 2 remake, Bloober Team are undoubtedly riding high at the moment. I’ll be honest, my relationship with the Krakow developer’s output has had its ups and downs. I found Layers of Fear to be a sub-par P.T. clone at best, and wasn’t exactly bowled over by its sequel or the studio’s subsequent adaptation of The Blair Witch either. Meanwhile, The Medium had cool ideas but faltered somewhat in the implementation.

Credit where it’s due, though, I do believe that Bloober are earnestly committed to self-improvement (often responding to constructive criticism by addressing it head-on in their follow-up titles) and that they have been on an upward trajectory in terms of both ambition and technical execution. So, I’m hopeful that Cronos: The New Dawn will continue that arc.

The premise alone indicates that — having at long last got Silent Hill out of their system — the team is now looking to spread its wings and try something a little different. It’ll have you taking control of a faceless chrononaut who travels to the past in order to rescue select individuals who didn’t survive a mysterious cataclysm. Along the way, you’ll have to traverse a deadly, barren wasteland and fend off mutant creatures with a high-tech sci-fi arsenal.

The cinematic trailer suggests that Bloober has now moved on from Konami’s legendary IP as their main source of inspiration and that they’ve now got Dead Space on the brain instead. The helmeted protagonist looks like he’s been taking fashion tips from Isaac Clarke, the deformed monsters could feasibly be evolutions of the Necromorphs, and it’s got that same over-the-shoulder perspective through which we experienced the many grisly sights of the USG Ishimura.

Those comparisons aren’t being drawn unfavourably by the way, because Dead Space rules and is a fine role model to aspire towards. Hell, I’m a rare apologist for The Callisto Protocol so they can rely on my goodwill. Judging by what we’ve seen so far, however, Cronos: The New Dawn crucially looks to be more than just a slavish homage to Visceral’s title. It boasts fresh ideas of its own, a unique dystopic Poland setting, and a thought-provoking time travel narrative that’s poised to raise interesting questions.

Cronos: The New Dawn is set for release in 2025 and will be available on PS5, the Xbox Series and PC.

4) The Dark Pictures Anthology: Directive 8020

It’s been over two years since we were invited to stay the night at H. H. Holmes’ Murder Castle, courtesy of the sadistic folks over at Supermassive Games. Billed by the Until Dawn developer as the “Season 1 Finale” to their Dark Pictures Anthology, The Devil in Me saw them pulling out all the stops to deliver their most ambitious interactive drama yet, complete with a beefed-up runtime, new gameplay features and the long-overdue addition of a sprint button. It also happened to be the anthology’s scariest and most engrossing outing to date, which didn’t hurt either.

With the upcoming Directive 8020, having benefited from more time in the oven than any of its annualised predecessors — and with it ushering in the second season of The Dark Pictures Anthology — it’s poised to continue this hot streak. Especially when you take into account its gripping premise.

Where previous entries in the series have dabbled in the slasher, haunted house, psychological thriller and creature feature sub-genres, this one is taking us to outer space for a sci-fi horror bloodbath. Supermassive has cited the likes of The Thing, Event Horizon, Solaris and Prometheus as key touchstones for this, as well as an absorbing mystery plucked from real life.

You see, one common thread running throughout The Dark Pictures games is that they all have some basis in either historical fact or sensationalist headlines, whether it’s the fate of the Ourang Medan ghost ship, the legacy of the Salem witch trials, or the Mesopotamian lore surrounding Pazuzu. Directive 8020 is upholding this series tradition by presenting us with a fascinating “What, If?” scenario, in which NASA explorers crash land on Tau Centi f: a celestial body that has been the subject of great interest to astronomers on account of its prospective habitability.  And wouldn’t you know it, they quickly discover that this “super-earth” does indeed have the right conditions for life. Just not the kind that anybody wants to have a close encounter with.

The refreshing genre switch-up, promising cinematic influences and dependable lead (in the form of Lashana Lynch) bode well for this one. Not to mention, we’re just pumped to see what The Dark Pictures Anthology looks like as it enters this new Season 2 era.

The Dark Pictures Anthology: Directive 8020 is set for release in 2025, and will launch on the Xbox Series, PlayStation 5 and PC.

3) Bye Sweet Carole

Sometimes a distinctive art style is more than enough to pique the interest of the gaming public. You don’t necessarily need groundbreaking mechanical innovations or showy technical attributes to jump to the top of everyone’s Steam Wishlist, so long as you’ve got a compelling visual hook that catches the eye.

Case in point, Bye Sweet Carole has done nothing thus far to indicate that it’s going to be at all revolutionary in the gameplay department. As far as we can tell, it’s another one of those creepy 2D platformers in which you control a helpless kid traversing an inexplicably hostile world (ala Limbo or Little Nightmares). Yet where it has managed to distinguish itself is with its utterly captivating hand-drawn aesthetic.

Inspired by classic animated features of yore, Little Sewing Machine’s title is set to capitalise on that oddly sinister vibe that so-called “children’s films” used to have in spades. You know, back when they possessed real cojones and weren’t afraid of mentally scarring youngsters beyond repair.

If you think golden age Disney (specifically, all of the traumatising parts of Sleeping Beauty, Pinocchio and The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad) meets Don Bluth then you’re in the right ballpark. The early marketing teases some intense moments that we can’t wait to experience for ourselves; whether it’s a journey through an ominous woodland — that’s clearly meant to echo Snow White’s first night alone in the wilderness — or a stealth encounter with a hooded figure that’s liable to wig out even the adults amongst us.

If Bye Sweet Carole has nothing else going for it beyond some gorgeous artistic flourishes and clever tributes to the animated greats of yesteryear, we still reckon it’ll be worth checking out when it releases sometime in 2025.

Slated to launch in 2025, Bye Sweet Carole will be available on Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 4, PS5, Xbox One, the Xbox Series and PC.

2) The Midnight Walk

Sticking to that theme of unique visuals, The Midnight Walk is shaping up to be yet another looker. Similar to Bye Sweet Carole, it’s largely being promoted on the strength of its deceptively childlike art style that’s sure to turn a few heads.

From the eccentric minds behind Lost in Random (under the banner of their new start-up, Zoink), it’s essentially a buddy road movie as filtered through the idiosyncratic, dark fairytale sensibilities of Henry Selick. You’re put in the — no doubt ash-clogged — shoes of a traveller known only as The Burnt One, and must embark on the titular pilgrimage across a phantasmagorical highway that is patrolled by all manner of macabre monstrosities.

Accompanying you on this quest is The Midnight Walk’s adorable, albeit slightly freaky, mascot: Potboy! With a silhouette that’s comparable to the default SackPerson from Little Big Planet, and a visage that recalls the masks of either Lock, Shock or Barrel from The Nightmare Before Christmas; he’s got a winning design that’s sure to make him exceedingly merchandisable in the future.

However, the character’s most distinctive feature is not his body shape. Nor is it his bug-eyed physiognomy or even the flame that is permanently smouldering atop his head. Rather, it’s his texture. You see, just like everything else in The Midnight Walk, Potboy is made entirely out of clay; both within the diegesis of the story and also out here in the real world.

An authentically handmade effort, the team at Zoink have sculpted every single one of The Midnight Walk’s assets live in their pottery studio, before then 3D scanning the resulting models into the code of the game itself. What you therefore end up with is a collection of interactive creatures, sets and props that feel way more tactile than anything a programmer could ever conjure up without the aid of physical materials. For instance, you can truly appreciate every crack in the stoneware, alongside various other minuscule imperfections that would likely be smoothed over if the models were instead designed from scratch in a sterile computer environment.

All of which contributes to this DIY quality that we think will imbue The Midnight Walk with tons of personality. For the optimal experience, there’s also going to be VR support that allows you to properly scrutinise Zoink’s handiwork up close. Suffice it to say, we can’t wait to behold it in all of its porcelain glory.

Scheduled for release in Spring 2025, The Midnight Walk will be available on PS5, PlayStation VR2 and PC.

1) Project C

Up top, I posited that “there’s no such thing as a sure bet” in gaming. If anything were to dissuade me of that notion, though, it would be this forthcoming collaboration between industry wunderkind Sam Barlow (Her Story and Telling Lies) and Possessor director Brandon Cronenberg.

Vanishingly little is known about Project C at the time of writing, but that’s almost part of its allure. The Steam page description even goes so far as to taunt you with its secretiveness, redacting any text that would be remotely enlightening and leaving just the names of its two creators intact, alongside the tantalizing sentence fragment: “For the first time ever in a video game.”

That’s really all we have to go on, yet it’s more than enough to whet our appetite. Barlow’s interactive fiction offerings have all been stellar and pushed the boundaries of the medium he works in (particularly his latest, Immortality) while Cronenberg can always be depended upon to supply some mind-bending concepts and gnarly ideas.

As if that wasn’t enough, Project C is also backed by Blumhouse’s new gaming division and, based on the quality of Fear the Spotlight alone, their seal of approval carries a lot of weight at the moment. Should the stars all align, this one could be very special indeed.

You can add Project C to your Steam Wishlist here.

The post Bloody Disgusting’s 10 Most Anticipated Horror Games of 2025 appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

With 2025 just around the corner, now is the perfect time to celebrate the true standouts. Of course, it was tough to whittle this list down to a top 10, and some favourites inevitably didn’t make the cut. Still, that’s a nice position for us to be in and is a testament to the incredible quality of those that did end up qualifying.

So, without further ado, here are our top 10 horror games of the year!

Editor’s Note: This article was written by Harrison Abbott and Aaron Boehm.

#10) Killer Klowns from Outer Space: The Game

It feels like asymmetrical multiplayer titles are a dime a dozen nowadays — especially when it comes to movie spin-offs — and, as such, they’re liable to blur together if you’re not well-versed in all the particulars. Sure, there might be infinitesimal differences in the character builds and strategies but, unless you’re a seasoned pro, those granular details aren’t gonna leap out at you. Instead, you’re far likelier to just settle into the very familiar routine that’s been codified by the likes of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.

To be fair, this year’s Killer Klowns From Outer Space adaptation hardly reinvents the wheel here, with all the genre staples being present and accounted for. Among other things, you’ve got the identical survivor objectives that these things are beholden to for some reason (find the fuses, repair the boat, escape by road, etc.) while the opposing team even has an equivalent of Dead by Daylight’s sacrificial hooks at their disposal. Albeit it in the more appealing form of cotton candy generators!

Scratch beneath the surface a little, though, and you’ll realise that Teravision’s offering is tonally unique. As is befitting of its zany source material — which, lest we forget, revolves around alien invaders who just so happen to resemble children’s party entertainers — Killer Klowns From Outer Space: The Game doesn’t take itself too seriously. Nor does its fun-loving community.

On that note, you’ll find that most matches here are filled with the refreshing sounds of gleeful laughter and people straight up enjoying themselves. Which is a welcome change of pace if you’ve ever been stuck in one of those bizarrely competitive DbD lobbies, where everybody’s prone to the most unhinged displays of emotional volatility.

Indeed, Killer Klowns is a far more relaxed environment; focussed less so on META tactics and complex loadout tinkering, and more on goofy visual comedy and slapstick finisher animations. Even the mechanics are quite forgiving, with survivors being afforded more second & third chances than you’d expect, as well as the opportunity to help out their teammates from beyond the grave (via some arcadey minigames). The jury’s still out on if this one’s got any real legs, but it’s certainly been a hoot while it’s lasted. – Words by Harrison Abbott

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of Killer Klowns From Outer Space here.

#9) A Quiet Place: The Road Ahead 

If you play as many horror games as we do, you eventually get desensitized to the various tricks of the trade, and what were once-effective scare tactics start to lose their luster. So, when we willingly admit (as a matter of public record) that A Quiet Place: The Road Ahead made us dread our own farts, you know that’s intended as the highest praise.

The movie tie-in does a lot right — capturing the signature tension of the film franchise upon which it is based, and squeezing as much mileage as possible out of the decibel-dependent stealth — but where it really shines is in its clever use of peripherals.  Stick on a pair of headphones, for instance, and you become hyperaware of every unwanted noise you are producing; whether it’s the faintest door creak or the wince-inducing crunch of a leaf beneath your feet.

Meanwhile, if you want to dial up the anxiety even further, you can also grant the title permission to listen in through your microphone feed; meaning that any sound you transmit in the real world can then be heard by the misophonic Death Angels in-game. It’s a super cool gimmick that immerses you in the Quiet Place universe like never before, and will have you stifling every inopportune cough, sneeze or, yes, bout of gas that you might otherwise have indulged. Acoustic conditions permitting, it’s definitely the optimal way to play and can lead to some memorable (but hopefully flatulence-free) anecdotes to share with your friends. – Words by Harrison Abbott.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of A Quiet Place: The Road Ahead here. 

#8) Mouthwashing

It’s hard to capture what makes Mouthwashing so special just from a quick description. It’s a first-person narrative horror game that tells the tragic story of the crew of a crashed transport spaceship, depicting the events both before and after that fateful incident.

This setup could describe all sorts of sci-fi horror stories, but the twists and turns it takes towards its nail biting ending consistently surprise, thanks to captivating characters and a thrilling structure that keeps you on your toes. Each of the crew members feels like a fully realized character, and their interactions create a perfect powder keg of tension as things get more and more dire.

You’re often doing simple adventure game-style puzzles, interacting with people and exploring the ship, but the game shines when it starts veering into more surreal P.T.-like dream logic. Its beautiful low poly-art style captures the nightmare perfectly, creating some truly striking images throughout.

Mouthwashing runs about two and a half hours, so you can finish it in a long sitting, giving you one of the most memorable narrative experiences of the year, in any medium. – Words by Aaron Boehm.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of Mouthwashing here.

#7) The Outlast Trials

When it was first announced that Outlast was going to be making the jump to online multiplayer, it raised eyebrows amongst some incredulous fans. After all, it was hard to envision how this series — known for its tightly scripted frights, exhilarating one-on-one stalker chases, and general emphasis on disempowerment — could ever make that transition without also losing a key piece of itself in the process. Yet, low and behold, the unlikely spin-off somehow emerged as the franchise’s finest hour to date.

After an auspicious debut in Early Access last year, The Outlast Trials has continued to go from strength to strength. Taking inspiration from movies like Saw and Cube, it puts you in the shoes (well, technically, the bare feet) of a hapless vagrant who’s been abducted by the sinister Murkoff corporation, and forced to participate in a gauntlet of inhumane tests.

With the ultimate aim of stripping away your basic decency, these psychological conditioning trials will have you plunging the absolute depths of human depravity. One minute you’ll be wheeling a prison snitch to his execution, the next you’ll be serving bleach to a cafeteria full of starving orphans, organising a blood rave for a bunch of weirdly amorous nuns, or dissolving severed heads in a huge vat of acid.

To return to our earlier point, what’s so impressive is that it still all feels uniquely Outlast, despite that unexpected pivot to co-op. In fact, the addition of other players — who may or may not have your best interests at heart — actually adds an unpredictable spice to proceedings, while the villains remain every bit as colorful as they were over at Mount Massive Asylum and the chases retain their ability to get your pulse racing. More importantly, though, none of the franchise’s signature obscenity has been watered down here to accommodate the multiplayer structure. If anything, those edges are sharper than ever before, and we couldn’t be happier about it. – Words by Harrison Abbott.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of The Outlast Trials here.

#6) Crow Country

It’s been a good year for old-school survival horror games, and Crow Country stands near the top of the heap.

While it doesn’t have fixed camera angles, instead allowing you to freely rotate your view to better see environments, all the other tropes are deployed successfully, in a way that clearly understands why they work. The game has clever puzzles, combat that focuses on resource management, and wonderful level design that allows you to slowly unlock new areas and shortcuts in its densely packed environments.

Crow Country drops you in the titular amusement park, which was abandoned two years prior for mysterious reasons. This setting perfectly sets the tone, creating a mix of menace and whimsy, twisting a traditionally joyful location into something more horrifying.

The visual variety in the areas prevents you from getting lost, giving you plenty of landmarks to help you familiarize yourself with the ins and outs of the park. This is perfect comfort gaming for me, using all the elements I loved from the PS1 classics I love, but doing so with a clear creative vision that’s wholly its own. –  Words by Aaron Boehm.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of Crow Country here.

#5) Kunitsu-Gami: Path of the Goddess 

One of the biggest surprises of the year for me was Kunitsu-Gami: Path of the Goddess, a brand-new IP from Capcom that feels like a throwback to an older era of game design.

You play as Soh, the protector of the maiden Yoshiro, tasked with helping cleanse Mount Kafuku of a horrifying force known as the Seethe. This narrative isn’t the focus of the game, but it does set up a gorgeous setting steeped in Japanese mythology and a compelling gameplay loop that takes familiar elements from different genres and remixes them in fresh new ways.

Each level plays out with a combination of action and tower defense-like strategy, tasking you with defending Yoshiro as you move her into position to cleanse the Torii Gates that bring forth the horrible monsters. The game alternates between two phases: day and night. In the day phase, you’ll run around and free villagers, assigning them different roles, and setup defenses to prepare for the incoming hordes. When night falls, the Seethe comes through the gates, and you and the villagers — the latter of whom can be repositioned during battle — must keep them from killing Yoshiro.

As you progress through the game, you’ll unlock additional villager classes, allowing for new defense strategies, and new skills for Soh, making your moment-to-moment actions more dynamic and compelling. The strategy and action layers combine together into something more than the sum of its parts, and there’s a neat base building mechanic that gives you a compelling way to advance progression between levels.

Kunitsu-Gami is definitely one of the most unique action games I’ve played in a long time, with great monster design and tight mechanics that evolve in satisfying ways over its 18-hour runtime. – Words by Aaron Boehm.

Kunitsu-Gami: Path of the Goddess is available on Steam, PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, Xbox One and Xbox Series.

#4) Fear the Spotlight 

By sheer coincidence, October 2024 brought us not one but two horror titles in which we were charged with ensuring the welfare of asthmatic protagonists. The first of these kindred experiences was the aforementioned Road Ahead — propped up by a major Hollywood license and a development team of over 100 people — while the other was far humbler in origins.

A modest passion project for husband-and-wife duo Bryan Singh & Crista Castro, Fear the Spotlight might not have been the year’s flashiest offering. Yet what it lacked in big-budget presentation it more than made up for in smart level design, creepy atmosphere, and a surprisingly heartfelt romance.

Relatively intimate in scope, it follows a pair of adorable high schoolers — Amy & Vivian — who are crushing hard on one another and will go to extraordinary lengths to protect their puppy love. Such devotion proves to be entirely necessary, by the way, when shenanigans involving a spirit board go calamitously wrong for the would-be couple, and they find themselves trapped in a strange elseworld. One that is governed by pure nightmare logic and that pits them against literal ghosts from the past (with some serious unfinished business to attend to).

It’s an engaging story with quite a few hidden layers, all of which feel satisfying over the course of a brisk 4-hours. Beyond the compelling mystery and sweet central relationship, there’s also a witty use of the ’90s period setting — most notably in an extended sequence that has you trying to evade detection while a floppy disc takes an inordinate amount of time to load — and some intricate puzzles to solve.

The best bits, however, are reserved for the second B scenario that goes even further down the rabbit hole and significantly ramps up the scare factor. Alas, to reveal any more about that here would be a huge disservice to the unexpected twists & turns that the developers have in store. Suffice it to say, Blumhouse backed a real winner with their first foray into the world of video game publishing. – Words by Harrison Abbott

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of Fear the Spotlight here.

#3) Silent Hill 2 

I’m still in shock that they pulled this off. As much as conventional wisdom might encourage remaking the most popular entry in a franchise, Silent Hill 2 is such a beloved game by so many that Bloober Team was playing with fire by touching this one.

It was a massive risk that paid off in spades, creating a thoroughly modern version of the original that’s reverent to what came before while still providing new elements to surprise longtime fans. Classic locations have been lovingly rendered and expanded upon, adding new twists on environments that I’ve explored over and over. What many considered a weak point of the series, the combat, has now been made one of its highlights, with great mechanics that make for tense encounters that always feel fraught with danger.

This game is scary in a different way than the original, creating a terrifying atmosphere that rarely lets up. While the density of combat may get a bit exhausting by the end of the 16-hour story, exploring the town of Silent Hill is more engrossing than it’s been in decades.

With new endings to discover, there’s plenty of reason to return to this game over and over, even if you’ve been experiencing this story for decades. It’s an outstanding remake that will please both old fans and newcomers to the series. If the upcoming Silent Hill: Townfall and Silent Hill f are up to this standard, series fans will finally have something to be excited about again. – Words by Aaron Boehm.

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of the Silent Hill 2 remake here. 

#2) Still Wakes the Deep

Walking simulators often get a bad rap, and not necessarily without justification. After all, the worst examples can be quite tedious; lazily using the genre’s constraints as an excuse to do very little on-screen storytelling and to put minimal effort into thinking of engaging ways for players to interact with their virtual worlds.

In many respects, The Chinese Room is one of our chief culprits here. Their calling card release, Dear Esther, was at the vanguard of the walking sim trend in the early 2010s, and didn’t give you much to do beyond “hold down the thumbstick until you hit the credits.” And then — depending on your tolerance for titles that make you slowly amble around while disembodied voices prattle on incessantly — Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture was either a profound exploration of mortality & faith, or a profound bore.

Regardless of how you felt about their past work, however, The Chinese Room really outdid themselves with Still Wakes the Deep. For starters, the developer affords you far greater agency than they’ve ever done before, incorporating vertiginous platforming sections, simple-but-effective stealth encounters, tense set pieces, and tangible consequences for messing up during any of the above. In short, it’s a proper game.

Yet even if it were more of a traditional walking sim, nestled within the studio’s comfort zone, it’d still be their crowning achievement. That’s because Still Wakes the Deep has a rich world that is captivating to just, well, walk around! Indeed, the Beira D drilling platform is one of the most characterful settings we’ve ever explored in recent memory, authentically capturing a very specific time & place (the Scottish oil industry, circa 1975) with microscopic details that make it feel truly lived in. This commitment to authenticity extends to every other facet of the title as well, whether it’s the thoroughly researched operating procedures of the rig or the believable dialect used by those working-class heroes who keep it running.

Even if you have no frame of reference for that way of life, you quickly become attached to the relatable roughnecks here and are invested in their terrible plight. Speaking of which, the elevator pitch for Still Wakes the Deep was reportedly “Annihilation meets The Poseidon Adventure” and boy does it live up to that tantalizing premise.

When the crew of the Bierra D accidentally disturb something in the abyssal waters that should have been left alone, all hell breaks loose. What follows is a cosmic horror bloodbath that is equal parts haunting and visceral, but it’s actually the disaster movie side of the equation that really wigged us out.

You see, in order to navigate the deteriorating rig, you’ll have to squeeze through tight spaces, crawl along slippery girders, tiptoe across precarious walkways and — in one excruciating sequence — swim through flooding chambers in near-pitch black darkness. It’d be terrifying enough without the added paranormal complications but, with them, it’s easily one of the best horror games of the decade so far – Words by Harrison Abbott

Read Bloody Disgusting’s full review of Still Wakes the Deep here. 

#1) Lorelei and the Laser Eyes 

For the past two years, my GOTY have been ones about art and the creative process. Alan Wake II and Immortality both examined that in completely unique ways, coming up with different things to say about how fiction affects the world and vice versa.

This year Simogo released Lorelei and the Laser Eyes, a surrealist puzzler with a hypnotic art style and a mysterious story that completely captivated me. You’re dropped into a gorgeous European hotel with level design like Resident Evil’s Spencer Manor, forcing you to solve puzzles as you figure out what exactly happened to the seemingly mad artist that owns Hotel Letztes Jahr.

What’s stunning about the game is how little it holds your hand. With very little guidance, you poke and prod at the puzzles presented to you, not necessarily knowing if you even have the information to solve them. While this may be frustrating to some, I found it absolutely exhilarating. I filled up about 20 pages of a notebook with scribbles of clues that I needed to follow up on or ciphers that I was attempting to decode. There’s even little sketches of symbols or scenes that will make no sense to anyone but me, but flipping through it takes me right back.

Lorelei and the Laser Eyes is like a 20-hour video game escape room, with a narrative that needs as much decoding as any of the puzzles. The black-and-white (with splashes of pink) art style sets a creepy tone, and many of the turns taken by the story go to some chilling directions, without ever losing a magician-like sense of wonder.

Figuring out a puzzle or discovering a story beat feels just as thrilling as beating an Elden Ring boss, making for one of the most cerebrally satisfying games I’ve ever played. It’s a deeply strange and challenging experience, but it’s one that will stick with me forever. – Words by Aaron Boehm.

Lorelei and the Laser Eyes is available on PC via Steam, PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, and the Nintendo Switch.

Honorable Mentions: The flawed-but-interesting Alone in the Dark, Dredge’s excellent Iron Rig expansion, the joyous retro throwback that is Sorry We’re Closed, Helldivers 2, Hollowbody, and that one mission in Call of Duty: Black Ops 6 where it inexplicably turns into a level from Control.

The post Bloody Disgusting’s 10 Best Horror Video Games of 2024 appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

In a best-case scenario (ala Friday the 13th), this approach can work wonders and feels like the most appropriate way of bringing the given source material to life. Other times, however, it can be oddly restrictive, and you end up with very singular IPs being contorted out of shape and robbed of their idiosyncrasies. All in service of a trend that’s at ever-increasing risk of getting stale.

Such is the case, for instance, whenever a famous boogeyman of the silver screen is retrofitted into the Dead by Daylight universe. When that happens, anything interesting about them is removed with surgical precision and their distinctive personalities are erased for the sake of adhering to the game’s blueprint of what a Killer ought to be. Sure, “The Nightmare” might sport Freddy Kruger’s fetching sweater and fedora ensemble, but he’s got none of the Springwood Slasher’s core appeal. His dream powers aren’t utilised to their full potential, he can’t perform any creative kills, and he’s ultimately reduced to just an ordinary guy; blundering around the map and slapping people with his once-intimidating glove.

The same goes for DbD’s Pinhead — who uncharacteristically surrenders his right to torture victims to an interdimensional deity — and Michael Myers — who also keeps his murderous inhibitions in check long enough to observe the protocols of some tedious ritual. What’s so frustrating here is that all of these legendary villains (from Pyramid Head right through to Ghostface, Sadako and even the Demogorgon) are beholden to the exact same, homogenised M.O. They’re not allowed to be themselves because they’ve got to be Dead by Daylight killers first & foremost, and that means keeping survivors alive on hooks until they dully bleed out.

I don’t mean to harp on about DbD as it’s only one example of this particular phenomenon. Granted, it is the most prominent that I can think of, but there are still plenty of other cases whereby unique scary movies have sacrificed their identities at the altar of the asymmetrical craze (see also Predator: Hunting Grounds or Evil Dead: The Game). Indeed, it’s no surprise that many in the horror community have started to roll their eyes whenever they discover that one of their favourites is being adapted in such a way. It’s just so overdone at this point and honestly feels like a failure of imagination.

I mean, if a developer were entrusted with The Thing licence in 2024, they’d likely be forced into producing a bargain bin Among Us clone; complete with tired social deduction mechanics, rote co-op objectives and half-baked combat. It’s almost inconceivable that we’d get a well-crafted, decently budgeted single-player experience out of it.

Yet 2002 was a very different time. Back then, experimentation was more freely encouraged within the AAA industry and not everything had to be quite so safe a bet. Not to mention, there was still over a decade to go before that asymmetrical fad took over the horror landscape; like a malicious alien shapeshifter assimilating everything in its path.

As such, when Computer Artworks were handed the keys to John Carpenter’s seminal creature feature at the turn of the millennium, there was no danger whatsoever of them churning out another generic 1v4 multiplayer offering. Instead, they made the inspired decision to create a tactical squad-based shooter. One that expertly captured the twitchy paranoia, oppressive setting, and gross-out imagery of the 1982 masterpiece upon which it was based.

The end result wasn’t flawless by any means and had some technical blemishes that were pretty hard to ignore, but it crucially felt like it was made by people who understood and loved The Thing. And that went a long way back in 2002. Heck, it still does today!

A Perfect Imitation Of A Cult Classic

Whether you are coming to Computer Artworks’ gem totally cold (no pun intended) or just have fond memories of trying to appreciate its low-res Antarctic vistas on your old CRT television set, now is the opportune moment to boot it up, because the wizards at Nightdive Studios have just given it their signature remastering treatment. And — to cut right to the chase — it’s received one hell of a facelift, as any side-by-side comparisons will instantly prove.

Indeed, where other remasters can sometimes feel like glorified ports, this is the platonic ideal of one. Everything from the character models to the textures, the animations, the lighting effects and the atmospherics have been rebuilt from the ground up in Nightdive’s proprietary KEX engine. Not to mention, those consummate preservationists have also managed to ensure that The Thing: Remastered runs smoothly in 4K and at up to 120 FPS on current-gen devices; giving it a brand new lease of life.

Yet while that visual overhaul might be striking, it is worth emphasising that this is still very much the same game under the hood. You see, much like those archivists who fastidiously restore centuries-old works of art — or Martin Scorsese lovingly touching up a decaying celluloid reel — Nightdive put a lot of care & effort into resurrecting lost titles just as they were. Or, at least, just as we remember them. As such, they don’t tend to take any bold creative swings with the projects they’re handling, and see themselves more as custodians of gaming history. Their job always being to preserve and never to mess with the original artistic vision.

Happily sticking to their lane in this respect, the studio’s new remaster of The Thing is exceedingly faithful to what came before. It keeps the old enemy & item placements, retains the same awkward voice acting, and only makes the most infinitesimal of tweaks to the mechanics. It even resists the impulse to catch veteran players off guard by, say, switching up the identity of that titular extraterrestrial changeling (although they have subtly changed how the infection system works). With that said, if you know the 2002 original like the back of your hand, don’t go expecting any dramatic shakeups here.

Who Goes There? 

Luckily, this extreme feat to the past isn’t a problem because (bar a few minor niggles that we’ll get to later) Computer Artworks’ shooter holds up remarkably well.

For the uninitiated, it casts you in the role of Captain J.F. Blake: the leader of an elite special forces unit that is sent to Outpost 31 in order to investigate the aftermath of everything that transpired in the John Carpenter film. With the benefit of actually having seen that flick, we’re a little more clued up on the situation than our avatar is but it doesn’t take long for him to draw his own conclusions. Namely, that everything is fucked!

From even the most rudimentary detective work, it’s clear that some kind of hostile organism infiltrated the compound, started picking off the researchers one by one, and eventually turned the handful of remaining survivors against each other. Judging by the obliterated remains of the base, it’s also safe to assume that — when they realised things weren’t quite going their way — the men took a drastic course of action by blowing the whole place to Kingdom Come. That’s the SparksNotes version of the story anyway, but it’s sufficient intel for Blake.

Having exhaustively combed the crime scene, you’re then dispatched on a series of missions (around 20 in total) that will have you visiting other memorable locales from the movie — including the Norwegian camp and the icy tunnels beneath it — alongside some never-before-seen environments that help expand upon the lore in interesting ways. Getting from A to B is easier said than done, however, as you’ll have to contend with 40-below temperatures on your travels, as well as the shifting loyalties & fragile psyches of your squad mates, a shadowy splinter faction that has ulterior motives with the alien, and, of course, the pesky shapeshifter itself; which could be hiding right under your nose at any moment.

“Trust’s A Tough Thing To Come By These Days”

For The Thing idolaters like myself, this 7-8 hour campaign manages to pull off the tricky balancing act of somehow following up one of the finest horror pictures ever made, while also taking the IP in a new direction.

The first half is especially gratifying, as you get to embark on a virtual tour of the movie’s various iconic sets. Whether it’s the ice block room where all the madness began in earnest for MacReady and Co., the dog kennels where shit truly hit the fan, or that subterranean lair where the Blair-thing is discovered assembling its makeshift UFO; these environments have all been reproduced in near-forensic detail. You can tell somebody on the development team must have spent months obsessively scrutinising behind-the-scenes stills and reference photos in order to make sure that it all matched up seamlessly with the film’s continuity, and that every last bit of production design minutiae was accounted for. Eagle-eyed gamers will even be able to find the axe that’s lodged in a door over at the Norwegian camp should they look hard enough.

On that note, there’s a lot of fan service here. The memorable fire-alarm klaxon gets some airtime, you can track down R.J.’s “We’re all very tired” tape, and it’s possible to uncover the canonical fate of Childs as a cool little Easter Egg.

Yet the game’s relationship to the Carpenter flick runs deeper than mere callbacks and throwaway nods. On the contrary, it understands its unique source material — and what’s made it such an enduring hit — in a way that frankly eludes a lot of those contemporary horror adaptations we discussed earlier on.

This is largely down to the smart choice of genre, as the squad shooter dynamic pairs perfectly with this licence and fits the story being told like a glove. After all, taking a movie that’s about paranoia and distrust, and turning it into a stressful team building exercise is an ingenious move on the developers’ part.

The gimmick here being that you’ve not only got to manage your companions’ battle tactics (as you would in Ghost Recon or Operation Flashpoint) but also their fast-deteriorating mental states. You see, your guys might have been prepped for the harsh realities of war and military black ops, but what they find in Outpost 31 is something else entirely. And they soon start to crack under the pressure.

Among other things, you’ll have to monitor each individual squad member’s anxiety levels, help them stay warm in the freezing climate, do what you can to boost morale, and generally try to inspire faith in your leadership. Because if they begin to doubt those capabilities for even a second — or worse still, question if you are who you say you are — then they will turn on you.

It’s a gripping twist on the squad shooter genre that injects a lot of tension into proceedings. On the one hand, these colleagues are very useful in a tight spot and you want to keep them on side (otherwise you’ll be left without a medic to salve your wounds, a gunman to watch your back, or an engineer to unlock path-critical doors). But on the other hand, they can be real liabilities when they lose their shit; prone as they are to hysterical breakdowns, panicked bursts of friendly fire, and sudden acts of betrayal. Come to think of it, Blake probably needs to start vetting his recruits a little more thoroughly!

In terms of the precautions you can take to keep things cordial, the main thing you’re gonna have to worry about is managing your squad’s finite resources. Case in point, furnishing buddies with ammo is a good way to calm their skittish nerves, but it does leave you out of pocket, so you’ve got to try and strike a fair trade. You’ve also got a limited supply of adrenaline shots that can (somewhat counterintuitively) be administered to soothe trigger-happy marines, and willingly handing over a powerful firearm is always a nice way to demonstrate that you’re on the level. Even if the latter is harder than parting than with your vital organs given the circumstances.

Meanwhile, on other occasions NPCs might be reluctant to follow orders until after you’ve proven yourself to them. You can do this by either completing key objectives in their presence or by submitting to an impromptu blood test that verifies you are a fellow earthling. That transaction goes both ways too, as you can use the same method to weed out any imposters in the group and then promptly torch them with a flamethrower if any untoward deception is revealed. Just be careful not to put yourself in the position where you’re liable to set an innocent man ablaze because you’ve wasted all the tests and can no longer discern friend from foe.

Kill It With Fire

In short, the whole trust system is very well implemented and (at the risk of trotting out an overused games reviewer cliché) makes you feel like you’re right in the middle of a classic scene from The Thing.

As in that movie, allegiances here are shaky and you’re forever on edge around your so-called brothers in arms. It’s a real thrill whenever you’ve then got to defuse a Mexican standoff or neutralise a frenzied teammate, because the permadeath mechanic means that any slipups could have major repercussions for your playthrough. As such, you’ll constantly be making tough calls when it comes to weighing up your own needs versus those of the wider group and, if you get that crucial balance wrong, you might even find yourself with a mutiny on your hands. Should that happen by the way, let’s just say it wouldn’t hurt to horde some of the best weapons for yourself!

A healthy suspicion of your comrades isn’t the only reason to cling onto that arsenal either, as the guns are incredibly gratifying to use and you’ll want to enjoy them first-hand. Sure, you’ll have to wait a bit for the satisfaction, as there’s a decent amount of build-up before the initial close encounter— it takes about half an hour before you even see a tiny spider-thing, and another 30 minutes on top of that before you meet a humanoid opponent. Yet when the combat finally does arrive, it is gloriously frenetic and oh-so bloody.

Aliens can pour into rooms from all different angles and quickly overwhelm an unprepared unit, so it behoves you to think strategically about where everyone is positioned, and which tools are best suited to the job in question. The awesome grenade launcher, for instance, is great at wreaking havoc in a large room that’s teeming with critters, but unload it in a confined hallway and there’s liable to be some collateral damage.

Conversely, popping long-range headshots on human foes with the sniper rifle is a rush (on account of the wonderfully squishy animation that accompanies it), but it’s not gonna be much use when a hulking creature is closing the distance on you with alarming haste. In that scenario, you’ll want to reach for the game’s phenomenal pump-action shotgun instead, which allows you to reduce everything in your crosshairs to a mulchy paste. It left me with a beaming smile on my face each and every time I used it.

And then, of course, there’s the aforementioned flamethrower: the only weapon that’s capable of finishing off the game’s beefiest enemies and one that capitalises on some rather impressive shadows & lighting effects; courtesy of Nightdive’s new upgrades. There’s something incredibly cathartic about the way it allows you to unleash your inner arsonist, by enveloping an enemy in flames and then watching as the fire spreads throughout the oil-slicked environs (causing any foul monstrosities it touches to immolate within seconds).

Assimilating The Past, Warts and All

Irrespective of which weapons you decide to take for yourself, and which you palm off on the rest of your company, you’re guaranteed to have fun marvelling at the gory mess you leave behind in The Thing: Remastered. Especially if you switch to the first-person targeting mode for a closer look at all this magnificent viscera.

Although doing so may give you cause to doubt your own status as a human, given that Blake’s head has a bizarre tendency to disappear from his body whenever you change camera perspectives. It’s a peculiar quirk in a remaster that’s otherwise free of any major technical hiccups like this.

Besides those spontaneous decapitations, any foibles that there are here can usually be attributed to Nightdive not updating something. For example, they’ve retained the obnoxious audio effect that repeats with every single step you take in snow, and they’ve done little to improve the AI’s self-preservation instincts when it comes to things like waltzing head-on into booby traps or getting caught on parts of the environment. Nor have they fixed the strangely cramped boss fights that seem destined to end after about 20 seconds, whether you emerge victorious from them or not.

I’d also argue that there are a few missed opportunities to think bigger and perhaps modernise some of the more dated mechanics. As it stands, for example, interacting with your squad often entails pausing the action to cycle through menus, when contextual button prompts could easily fulfil the same purpose and would be less immersion-breaking.

Elsewhere, it’s hard to get too invested in the survival of your teammates when the game keeps contriving reasons for them to bugger off between loading screens (whether it’s because they get extracted by a helicopter or because they refuse to crouch through a waist-high ventilation shaft). As a result, you end up with a revolving door of interchangeable companions who start to feel quite expendable. Whereas it would raise the stakes significantly if you only had access to a handful of these soldiers for the entire campaign, and therefore had to make them last.

Granted, while some of these proposed tweaks fall well within the parameters of a remaster, others are maybe a tad too ambitious. Again, Nightdive is known for its warts & all approach to resurrecting old titles, so I can understand them not wanting them to change things up in any radical ways. Still, I think there was room for at least a few respectful improvements that wouldn’t have undermined the OG developers’ vision.

Putting that one issue aside, however, this remains a terrific overall package that’s sure to delight fans of The Thing. Nightdive’s contributions are substantive and help bring Computer Artwork’s title into the 2020s. Meanwhile, the original foundations are just as strong as ever; with an unrelenting sense of tension and a campaign that does justice to its legendary source material. Devs working on any new games based on iconic horror movies would do well to study this exemplar.

Review code provided by publisher.

The Thing: Remastered is available digitally on PC via Steam and GOG, as well as on PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, Xbox One, Xbox Series X|S, and Nintendo Switch.

The post ‘The Thing: Remastered’ Is a Satisfying Modern Facelift of a Cult Classic [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

What’s less likely to have kept you up at night, however, is the missing time that bridges the film’s prologue — in which Weyland-Yutani recovers the original Xenomorph from Ridley Scott’s 1979 classic — and its narrative proper. After all, we already know: A) that the corporation sent out a probe with the express purpose of tracking down the so-called “perfect organism”; B) that they proceeded to conduct experiments with its DNA; and C) that by the time the Corbelan crew arrives at Renaissance Station, all of the personnel have been torn to shreds.

With mangled bodies clogging up the hallways of both research modules, and that gunky resin having overtaken the lower levels, we can safely infer what happened here. It certainly doesn’t take Benoit Blanc to get to the bottom of it!

Yet despite the fact that it seems to be a fairly cut-and-dry case, with little worth interrogating, it is this backstory that the team behind Marvel’s new Alien: Romulus #1 comic have decided to explore. At a brisk 30 pages (inclusive of the front cover, back cover and credits section), the one-shot doesn’t have the luxury of going super in-depth with any of its ideas, nor does it have the latitude to meaningfully recontextualize anything from its companion piece movie.

Still, it is an opportunity to pave over some niggling plot holes — like why the alien’s growth is so accelerated — and to indulge in gruesome bug-hunt action. If that’s all you want, then it’s an enjoyable enough read.

Picking up from the very second that Fede Álvarez cuts away in his film, just as the cocooned Xenomorph is delivered to the Renaissance, the comic is set roughly 20 years after the Nostromo massacre, but 5 months before we meet Rain & Andy on LV-410. It primarily focuses on the opposing agendas of head scientist Mattos (who is intent on using “Specimen XX121” for Weyland-Yutani’s weapons division) and the Synthetic Officer Rook (who, instead, is interested in the genetic implications of the Xeno’s ability to withstand hostile environments).

Meanwhile, there’s a subplot about a pair of ex-marines — and apparently the only sensible people onboard either the Remus or the Romulus — who are convinced this thing ought to be launched back into the cold vacuum of space from whence it came. Ironically enough, it’s their good intentions that end up getting everyone killed, as they sneak into the lab after hours and inadvertently loose XX121 upon the station.

And that’s pretty much it to be honest. There’s vanishingly little to spoil because it all plays out as you’d expect based on the evidence presented to us in the movie months ago. In a foreword, Álvarez enthuses that this comic is: “the perfect format to fill the story gap presented in the first few minutes of [his] film.” Technically, that’s what the one-shot does, but it offers nothing that changes your perspective in any exciting way.

Aside from clarifying the exact origins of that serum Kay injects herself with — and the extent of Rook’s involvement in all of the mad experiments going on — the biggest revelations here are just about how certain MacGuffins ended up in certain places. For example, we discover the precise steps that lead to Rook being torn in half next to a gaping hole in the station, and why the cloned face huggers are locked in that one red room.

Similar to the 2011 prequel of The Thing (that existed mostly to justify why an axe was buried into the wall of a Norwegian base) there is something satisfying about these forensic, A-to-B connections and how neatly they match up with the continuity of Alien: Romulus itself. Writer Zac Thompson also helps strengthen the film’s connective tissue to Prometheus with a couple of throwaway references to Peter Weyland’s quest for eternal life, which is appreciated.

Yet, not to labour the point, that’s about all there is here. The truncated nature of the plot means that there’s no time to build suspense or form any deep attachments to the new characters. Indeed, they’re just thinly sketched cannon fodder. At least in terms of the writing.

Conversely, Daniel Picciotto’s art is rich in detail, while Yen Nitro’s colours add a lot of texture to scenes, particularly those of a gorier nature. On that note, while the one-shot might not reveal too much lore or backstory, it certainly takes joy in revealing what the alien is capable of doing to the human body; courtesy of some rather graphic panels. There’s a grizzly face-ripping, somebody’s eardrums are violently penetrated by the Xeno’s inner jaw, and it all culminates with an acidic bloodbath that’s fun to gawk at. It’s a shame then that it takes over half the comic’s page count to get to all that icky stuff.

Credit where credit is due, Alien: Romulus #1 is not a bad comic-book by any stretch. Just an inessential one. It’s always nice to dip back into this world, getting to see Rook in illustrated form helps wash away some of the bad taste left behind by his CGI counterpart, and Thompson does what he can to tee up the events of Álvarez’s movie. Just don’t go expecting anything more substantial than that.

Presented by 20th Century Studios in association with Marvel, Alien: Romulus #1 is available now in a digital and print editions.

The post Marvel’s ‘Alien: Romulus’ Prequel Comic Book Delivers Inessential Backstory to the Movie [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Were that tutorial popup to appear in literally any other video game, it might raise an eyebrow or two. Yet by the time you’ve reached the relevant juncture in 2011’s Shadows of the Damned, you will have become completely desensitized to such double entendres (if they can even be called that).

Indeed, after five solid hours of “Aim for the Cracks” this and “One-Eyed William” that, it’ll hardly phase you when the barrel of your sentient revolver — named Johnson, because of course he is — extends to a prodigious length following a particularly steamy phone call.  And those are the bits that could generously be deemed euphemistic!

There’s also plenty of in-your-face lasciviousness to go-around here, whether it’s a (nominally heroic) character remaking that his “stiffy” has been deflated at the sight of a scantily clad corpse erupting into a geyser of blood, or the moment wherein you traverse the cleavage of a giant sex worker’s while she simulates performing fellatio with her fingers. Initially, I tried keeping a log of all this NSFW content, but then I started to worry about what people would think of me if they happened to browse the notes section of my phone, and saw the words “Phallic Monster Fish” written in that precise order. So, I gave up and just surrendered to the lunacy.

Highway To Hell

If you’ve not played Grasshopper Manufacture’s exercise in unhinged juvenility before, then the best way I can describe it is that it feels like the product of a teenager’s pubescent imagination run wild. In it, you play as Garcia ‘Fucking’ Hotspur, a motorcycle-riding, gun-toting, alcohol-fueled lothario who is the scourge of the netherworld (feared by the very Prince of Darkness himself). He’s a demon hunter by trade, a master of hand-to-hand combat, and derives the same benefits from mainlining tequila that Popeye gets from guzzling down cans of spinach. Oh, and he is also on a quest to rescue his smoking-hot lingerie model girlfriend from the bowels of Hell.

Every female character this certified badass interacts with is, to some extent, romantically interested in him and every man either harbors a begrudging respect for him or otherwise quakes in their boots at his mere presence. He is, in short, a protagonist expressly designed to appeal to those with out-of-control hormones. Although, come to think of it, I dimly remember being 13 years old and am pretty sure that I’d have only felt crippling embarrassment if I were saddled with the name “Garcia Fucking Hotspur”. Perhaps a more accurate way of looking at it then, is that he’s the ideal masculine specimen as envisioned by the gang from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Anyway, the basic premise is that Garcia’s inamorata, Paula, has been kidnapped by the vengeful forces of evil (who’ve grown tired of him thinning their ranks up in the mortal realm) and now he’s on a warpath to get her back. Teaming up with his shapeshifting sidekick, Johnson — a rehabilitated demon capable of assuming the form of everything from a Harley-Davidson chopper to a skull-launching blunderbuss — he’s essentially got to hoof it from one end of Hell to the other.

As pointed out in one of the game’s many fourth wall breaks, this means that it’s kind of like a road trip story. Only instead of experiencing the joys of the American highway, Garcia & Johnson find themselves: clearing out putrid catacombs; frequenting supernatural red light districts; being pursued by a trio of grim reapers; and going toe-to-toe with a psychotic bird man who (for reasons known to the developers alone) exclusively communicates through screeched F-bombs.

It’s every bit as OTT and puerile as it sounds, resembling the video game equivalent of a Troma film. You can definitely see why creative writer Suda51 would go on to work with (a pre-mainstream success) James Gunn for the following year’s Lollipop Chainsaw, that’s for sure. Given their shared love of the perverse and the grotesque, it’s a veritable match made in heaven.

I Don’t Want To Grow Up

If the above description is even remotely appealing, then you’ll be pleased to learn that the new Shadows of the Damned: Hella Remastered has not sanded away any of those sharp edges. On the contrary, the non-stop dick jokes, profanity-laced dialogue, cultural stereotypes, leering eroticism, outrageous gore, and general bad taste has all been retained.

Which is a win for preservationists, of course, because you needn’t fret over the artist’s original intent getting lost in the update. This is Grasshopper Manufacture’s vision as it was always meant to be, neither defanged nor, as the case may be here, de-horned.

Whether that’s a good thing will largely depend upon your tolerance for edge-lord humor (or, as the press notes have the audacity to put it, “witty banter” and “bold forms of expression”). You see, there’s nothing clever about Shadows of the Damned’s writing, with the vast majority of its wisecracks boiling down to Garcia boasting about the size of his manhood. Occasionally it feels like these one-liners are supposed to be bawdy innuendos —  based on how they’re delivered at least — but it’s as if somebody forgot to put any euphemistic substitutions in there. And thus what you end up with is people literally just talking about their cocks without any sense of irony or winking ambiguity.

Yet here’s the peculiar thing. Sometimes those puns are so witless and blunt that they come full circle and become kinda funny. It’s the Farrelly Brothers phenomenon. I won’t lie, I genuinely sniggered a fair few times during my playthrough. I’m not proud of it, but I didn’t know how else to react when Christopher went limp after I made him blow his entire load of ammunition. Because he’s like a penis! Get it?

As with any video game that relies on scripted comedy, the novelty of certain gags does wear thin once you’ve been subjected to them multiple times over (even the immortal “Taste My Boner” quip loses its appeal upon the 20th reprise) but there’s crucially enough of them here to keep you amused. In fact, I became so attuned to its dirty mind that, after a while, I started seeing sophomoric references where they may not have even been intended! For example, I found myself asking bizarre questions like: “Is the animation for lighting fireworks supposed to mimic a vigorous act of digital penetration?” and “Is that flower a knob, or has this game warped my fragile, innocent brain beyond repair?”

I guess that’s what you get when you have a title that considers absolutely everything through the prism of either shooting it or fucking it. And likewise views every woman in relation to the relative flaccidity of the nearest male erection. Which brings me to the one part of Shadows of the Damned’s nature that’s aged less endearingly: the icky chauvinism.

I’m all for a game that gives off the distinct impression it was directed by that one Tex Avery cartoon wolf that keeps yelling “awooga” whenever it sees a pretty lady. That’s totally harmless. But there’s something more off-putting about the way that every female character here is depicted as either a sexed-up babe, a wizened old crone, or repulsively obese. Sometimes transitioning from one to the other in the space of a cutscene!

At the risk of sounding like a fuddy-duddy pearl clutcher, I’m also not sure why we have to watch our half-naked girlfriend get repeatedly torn open and decapitated, often while people make lewd comments about her newly-mangled physique. It’s a bit weird is all I’m saying and if you met someone who had these attitudes in-person you’d probably want to give them a wide berth.

To be clear, I’d never advocate for censorship or trying to alter the past with one of these remasters — and, for that very reason, I’m glad Grasshopper Manufacturer have stuck to their guns —  however, there’s no getting around the fact that parts of Shadows of the Damned: Hella Remastered feel quite dated in the year 2024. Not only in terms of those relentless frat boy antics but also, it has to be said, with certain aspects of the design.

Old School Charms and Old School Jank

For what it’s worth, I actually had a fun 6 or 7 hours with Shadows of the Damned: Hella Remastered, in spite of its more objectionable elements. In some respects that dated quality can even be rather nostalgic.

It reminds me of the kind of short-but-sweet title you’d rent from Blockbuster Video back in the day, proceed to blitz through in a single weekend, and then never return to because you’d already digested all that it had to offer. Nevertheless, you’d look back on your brief time with it fondly.

For me, it belongs in the company of other quintessentially “7/10” releases from the Xbox 360 era like: Singularity; Resistance: Fall of Man; Enslaved: Odyssey to the West; or Dark Sector. All of which I hold in high esteem by the way. Sure, they weren’t ground-breaking by any stretch, but they delivered the goods when it came to satisfying gameplay and the same is true of Hella Remastered.

It’s a throwback to when action-adventure titles weren’t bogged down by excess baggage (like tedious crafting mechanics, or extraneous open-world busy work) and instead focused on delivering a tighter experience. Indeed, from a modern perspective, it’s refreshingly efficient and to the point when it comes to moving you from one gonzo set-piece to the next. All you do is blast away at monstrous hordes in linear environments, while your arsenal gradually expands and the scenarios you find yourself caught up in become increasingly elaborate. There’s no guff.

The first half in particular is densely packed with memorable moments, from the chapter wherein you have to ascend a tower by riding a huge chandelier (that, as a nice bonus, also smears enemies into a gloopy paste if you time your swings properly), to the on-rails shooting gallery that pits you against biomechanical kaiju, or the 2D bullet hell sections that look like the doodlings of a Tim Burton sketchbook. There’s even a bit where it basically turns into a protracted Evil Dead 2 homage and, as a horror fan, it’s impossible not to warm to that.

In short, there’s plenty of mad creative spark here. After he’s presumably taken a cold shower and got all that strange randiness out of his system, Suda51 can come up with some pretty cool ideas. His interpretation of the underworld is a highly unique one, for instance, replete with baby-faced hell spawn that won’t let you pass until you’ve fed them strawberries, and goat-headed lanterns that provide safe refuge from aggressors.

Granted, it can sometimes verge on being quirky for quirkiness’ sake but equally, there’s a fantastic boss battle that has you duking it out with a Minotaur whose every last move is accompanied by the strains of a harmonica he once swallowed in a previous life… And then he summons a gargantuan steed to his aid … Only to eat said horse at the end of his first phase …. Whereupon he then becomes 30 feet tall… And finally proceeds to urinate darkness that consumes the entire map.

And, you know what — within the logic of the in-game universe — that all just about makes sense! In the same way that the whacky rules of Beetlejuice make sense if you’re willing to go along for the ride.

As aforementioned, however, certain technical aspects do feel a tad clunky and could probably have done with updating. In the world of cinema there’s a very clear line between what constitutes a remake and what constitutes a remaster, but for us gamers those definitions are more fluid. For the avoidance of any doubt then, Grasshopper Manufacturer has plumped for the warts-and-all approach with Shadows of the Damned: Hella Remastered.

There are a handful of new costumes, a long-requested New Game + feature and, if you’re on PS5, you can now use the DualSense motion controls to make micro-adjustments that make it easier to pull off those gratifying headshots. Otherwise, the core elements of design have been virtually untouched, leaving you to contend with the same old visual glitches, texture pop-ins, buggy animations, and frame rate dips. Not to mention, the over-the-shoulder camera still has a tendency to misbehave whenever the environments can’t properly accommodate it (especially if you’re locked into a cramped room with those massive electric guys).

All in all, what you get with this next-gen edition of Shadows of the Damned is a faithful restoration of a game that, for better or worse, has not grown up one iota in the past 13 years. It’s brash, dumb, and oftentimes fun, but you’ll need to be prepared for some stuff that frankly doesn’t hold up too well. Both in terms of its attitudes and its lack of technical polish.

Shadows of the Damned: Hella Remastered will be released on PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, Xbox One, Xbox Series, Nintendo Switch and Steam on October 31st. Review code supplied by NetEase Games and Grasshopper Manufacturer. 

The post ‘Shadows of the Damned: Hella Remastered’ Keeps Its 2011 Immaturity, for Better and for Worse [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

Anyway, the point is that it’s hardly a revolutionary concept. Should we expand the parameters a little to include creatures that enjoy perfect 20/20 vision —  but still boast highly attuned hearing nonetheless — then we’d also have to account for the likes of Amnesia: The Bunker’s beast or the perceptive xenomorph from Alien: Isolation. Both of whom will come running at the faintest pin drop.

Yet while A Quiet Place: The Road Ahead may not have patented the idea of misophonia-afflicted monsters (nor did the 2018 John Krasinski movie upon which it is based) it is arguably the game that squeezes the most mileage from this gimmick. The only other title that really comes close is Wales Interactive’s Maid of Sker, but the mechanics of that indie never evolved much beyond “Press R1 To Hold Your Breath”.

Conversely, volume management is at the very heart of The Road Ahead. Every single action you take here has an associated decibel output that you need to be mindful of, whether it’s the opening of a rusty door, the decision to take a puff of your avatar’s inhaler, or daring to take a shortcut through a path that is lined with crunchy leaves. If you’re feeling especially confident, you can even up the ante by granting the game permission to break the 4th wall and listen in through your microphone feed: forcing you to play just like your character … In petrified silence.

Regardless of how much you’re willing to commit to the role-play, it’s an unbearably intense experience. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I winced so much during a horror title; squirming every time I absent-mindedly stepped on a shard of glass, or whenever I realized that I was gonna have to let a vent grate drop with a harsh, metallic clang. Indeed, for an excruciating five-to-six hours, the developers at Stormind Games had me totally in their thrall and I’m already eager to jump back in for a hard mode playthrough.

What To Expect When You’re Expecting

Like the cinematic outings in the Quiet Place saga, The Road Ahead centers on a compelling dynamic between two principal characters. The franchise’s debut installment was all about the strained relationship between a father and the daughter he couldn’t help but blame for a recent tragedy, its sequel then leaned into the ever-dependable “Badass and Child Duo” trope, and this year’s Day One thrust a pair of strangers together who, despite having very little in common, ultimately bonded over a perilous journey to retrieve the last decent pizza in New York.

Stromind’s adaptation feels particularly indebted to that first film, however, even going so far as to recycle key plot points from it, including: an inopportune pregnancy and a family unit that has been riven by both incredible grief and incredible guilt. Spanning a stressful couple of weeks, it puts you in the shoes of Alex Taylor: a former college student and tech wiz-kid who has resolved to make herself useful in the post-apocalypse.

Together with her childhood sweetheart, Martin, she routinely ventures out into the ruins of civilization to scavenge whatever supplies she thinks will be of greatest benefit to her settlement. Said wishlist usually comprises generic medicines, scrap parts, or food items, but when we join her — on Day 105 of the alien invasion — she’s trying to satisfy a more personal need.

You see, Alex has a suspicion that she may be pregnant with Martin’s child and so, desperate for certainty, decides to raid a nearby pharmacist in the hope that nobody else has gotten themselves knocked up lately and looted all the relevant tests. Suffice it to say, this excursion doesn’t go according to plan and one half of the scouting party ends up sacrificing themselves to protect the other. That’s Martin, by the way, not his pregnant girlfriend. Just in case that wasn’t clear.

Returning back to HQ, a devastated Alex then has the unenviable task of confronting her would-be mother-in-law, Laura. Alas, the unforgiving matriarch does not take the news of her son’s demise well, holding Alex personally accountable for it and locking her in a soundproofed room so that she cannot endanger anybody else.

Not one for solitary confinement — and worried about potential complications arising with the pregnancy — Alex promptly decides to spring herself from this cage and sets out on a treacherous quest. Traversing the city all by her lonesome, her goal is to track down the National Guard: praying that they will be able to give her the medical care she needs in order to successfully carry this baby to term.

Along the way, she’ll have to manage her condition, cross hazardous terrain, sidestep boobytraps that have been rigged by other survivors and, of course, avoid provoking the ire of those terrifying “Death Angels”. Not to mention, Laura is hot on her heels the entire time as well, determined not to lose another family member (in the form of her unborn grandchild) to Alex’s recklessness.

A Monster Movie Story With A Beating Human Heart

True to the spirit of the Quiet Place films, it’s an emotional, character-led narrative. So, if you’re hankering for a wall-to-wall bloodbath — replete with non-stop action and an excessive body count — then let’s just say there are other horror games out there that might better tickle your fancy. Outside of some minor injury detail and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it violence, there’s hardly any explicit content here whatsoever.

To be clear, that doesn’t mean the title is completely bereft of tension or creature-feature thrills, (on the contrary, there are some electrifying set pieces) but it is a slower-paced affair when compared to the likes of, say, Outlast. Indeed, it has more in common with this year’s contemplative Still Wakes the Deep than it does the relentless gorefest that is Dead Space or even the more sober of Resident Evil instalments.

Understatement is the name of the game here and the human drama can be fairly moving as a result. It’s hard not to feel pangs of sympathy, for example, as Alex and Laura try to reconcile their differences for the sake of a baby they both cherish, and the deceased loved one they both mourn.

To give away any of the specific beats would be a huge disservice to Stormind’s compassionate storytelling, but the point is there are a few really affecting scenes here. One particular standout is a brief moment of respite wherein Alex — having sought refuge in a safe house padded with vibration-absorbent materials — gets to unleash all of her pent-up emotions at once, belatedly processing several hours’ worth of misfortunes.

But perhaps even more heart-rending than the main plot are the epistolary notes that you’ll discover strewn around the environments. In-game documents are nothing new to the survival horror genre by any stretch of the imagination, but The Road Ahead’s feel especially well-written and authentic.

From coy, back-and-forth flirtations penned by awkward tweens at a summer camp, to the devastating journal entries of a bereaved parent who’s sheltering an orphan; there are some properly engaging mini-stories here. If you’re anything like me, you’ll actively go out of your way (and even put the expectant mother you’re controlling in jeopardy) just to find the next note in a given series. Clinging to the vain hope that one of these tales might have a happier resolution than your own. Spoiler alert: few of them do.

Despite the lack of upbeat endings, though, there is a prevailing sense of optimism with these logs. Across the board, they depict people coming together and exhibiting remarkable selflessness in the face of dire circumstances. For instance, another text recounts how a pair of blue-collar workers went above and beyond the call of duty to keep a pump station operating post alien arrival, for no other reason than to be Good Samaritans.

Where most media in this subgenre tends to assume that mankind will revert to its basest impulses once the chips are down, the Quiet Place franchise has always maintained a little more faith in humanity. Stormind clearly took that account with this adaptation, understanding that the appeal of their source material runs deeper than just: “What if the Cloverfield monster A) was smaller and B) had super hearing?”

Don’t Make A Peep

But enough of all that touchy-feely crap! You wanna know if this game actually delivers on its promise of making you feel like you’re part of the Quiet Place universe. That’s its unique selling point after all.

Well, thankfully, the developers do this side of things justice as well, incorporating clever mechanics, intricate systems, and smartly designed set pieces that force you to consider the aural implications of every single button that you press. The result is a licensed title that, for once, manages to capture the idiosyncratic vibe of the movies it’s based on, rather than contorting them beyond recognition to fit some pre-existing formula. It just goes to show what can be accomplished if the studios behind these things dare to think outside the box for a change, and don’t simply default to their comfort zone of (often asymmetrical) multiplayer whenever they’re entrusted with IP.

In fact, when it’s firing on all cylinders, The Road Ahead almost verges on Alien: Isolation levels of brilliance. Much like Creative Assembly’s gem, this is a pure, undiluted stealth experience at its core. Indeed, you have absolutely no means of defending yourself against the homicidal ETs — other than evading detection in the first place — and so must rely on your wits to survive.

As aforementioned, this translates to you being very, very careful about the amount of noise you make, because just barely going over the permitted threshold here could spell instant doom for Alex and her baby. In its simplest form, that’ll mean traversing environments at a glacial pace, softening your footsteps, and being vigilant of any obstacles that you could potentially bump into.

Tentative and gentle pushes of the analog stick are therefore recommended, as is plotting your route through areas well in advance. For example, the most obvious path to a destination might entail wading through puddles — and creating an inevitable splash that’s hard to muffle — when a safer option could be available in the form of a detour through an adjacent building.

That’d be an unusually straightforward scenario, of course, as the typical situations you’re dropped in here are far dicier. Among other things, you’ll have to account for the scrape a metal door produces when you yank it open, jumpy pigeons that are liable to cause a ruckus if you veer too close, and chasms that’ll need bridging with a squeaky plank of wood.

Yet the biggest complication of all is surely Alex’s asthma, which you’ll need to manage cautiously lest an ill-timed attack sends her spiralling into a coughing fit. No matter how wary you are of this danger, there will be instances where aggravating Alex’s condition — either through physical exertion, the kicking up dust, or prolonged exposure to stress—   is unavoidable. At which point you’ll have to either nail a QTE to suppress the forthcoming wheezes or otherwise take a puff from an inhaler (which is itself noisy enough to prick up the ears of any lingering Death Angels in the vicinity).

It’s an interesting wrinkle that adds to your mounting pile of nerves. Although granted, it is a little odd that the town you’re exploring seems to have been exclusively populated by fellow asthmatics prior to the doomsday. Many of whom have courteously left their prescription medications lying on the floor or in briefcases; ripe for the taking.

Death By Fart

On that note, the game does provide some resources to help tip the scales in your favor. Again, these range from the basic (throwable distractions) to the more inventive (sandbags that can be emptied in order to pave a cushioned path to your objective).

The tool you’ll be relying on most though is the phonometer: a makeshift contraption that monitors the relative volume of ambiance, thereby enabling you to make informed decisions about how loud you can go without attracting any unwanted attention. Case in point, it might indicate that a howling wind is giving you ample cover to make a racket, or that an electrical hum in the background may drown out any whisper-quiet intrusions you’ve got planned. Alternatively, it could tell you that you’re in deathly silent conditions and therefore need to stay as hushed as possible.

It’s an ingenious way of taking a concept that could be quite difficult to quantify and making it easy for players to wrap their heads around. Displaying a pair of color-coded tracks (one representing the static base noise of your environs and another representing your own contributions to that soundscape), the phonometer is an elegant solution that removes any ambiguity over what exactly constitutes a spike in volume, and which noises you can get away with in your present circumstances. And once you’ve got a firm handle on the rules, it adds to the suspense because you appreciate just how many close calls you’ve had and know when you’re pushing your luck too.

The Road Ahead’s effective use of gadgets is not limited only to those devices that are found in-game either, with a number of peripherals getting a chance to shine as well. Sticking on a good pair of headphones, for instance, will heighten your already crippling paranoia by forcing you to fixate on every creaky floorboard and rustling forest bush. I got so absorbed in this experience that when I accidentally knocked over a paint bucket at one point — and had the ensuing clatter funneled directly into my ear canals —   my entire body seized up in fear. It really did a number on me.

Braver souls can choose to immerse themselves even further in the horror by activating their own microphone, in turn allowing the game’s virtual enemies to react to real-world sounds. Obviously, there are practical factors to take into consideration with this (are your neighbors currently in the middle of an incessant DIY project? Are you coming down with a sinus-bungling cold?) but it’s a ton of fun if the stars do align.

After all, it cranks the anxiety up to a whole other level when you’re desperately trying to stifle a cough or refraining from leaning back in your gaming chair, just in case it needs oiling. There’s also something quite liberating about putting a finger to your lips when another member of the household waltzes into the room, and you’ve got a perfectly valid excuse for shushing them in this way. I mean, there’s lives at stake here damn it!

Speaking from first-hand experience, nothing compares to the catharsis that you feel upon arriving at a deafening waterfall or babbling stream when you’ve got the mic turned on here. It’s a welcome release of tension, providing an opportunity for you to finally clear your throat or perform some other bodily function that you’ve been holding in for the past hour (true story, I had at least one occurrence of flatulence upending my playthrough).

In short, the microphone feature is more than just a showy gimmick and legitimately helps you connect with The Road Ahead on a deeper level. I’d go so far as to describe it as the optimal way of engaging with the title.

Bumps In The Road (Ahead)

With all of that gushing out of the way, I have to admit there are faults that prohibit me from giving this a glowing, 5-star endorsement.

For a start, certain elements of design are outright clunky and unintuitive: such as how objects can only be interacted with from very precise angles. You get the sense that the developers realized it was a bit rough around the edges in this respect, because they’ve stuffed the game with intrusive tutorial screens to make sure you understand how it’s all supposed to work.

This compulsion to over-explain and handhold is especially frustrating, given that almost every mechanic in The Road Ahead is communicated to you organically anyway. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on these pop-ups being an eleventh-hour addition, because they do feel utterly redundant. Whether it’s through enlightening documents, sly lines of dialogue, or subtle visual cues, the game does a fantastic job of introducing its various systems to you and so pausing the action to shove an instructional diagram in your face does nothing but take you out of it.

Thankfully, you can toggle these condescending messages off in the menu, alongside a few other accessibility preferences that can be tweaked. What you’re sadly unable to switch off, however, are the myriad technical issues that plague the campaign and sometimes verge on game-breaking.

Contextual button prompts, in particular, have a nasty habit of disappearing when you’re in a tight spot, and I can attribute around a dozen of my deaths to Alex’s stubborn refusal to clamber over a knee-high windowsill. When so much TLC has clearly been poured into this product from a creative standpoint, it’s a shame that infuriating glitches like this can undermine that goodwill. Hopefully, the kinks will be ironed out in a patch soon.

Lastly, I have to admit that the game’s spell was kind of shattered for me once I began to cotton on to its behind-the-scenes rules, particularly those that govern the behavior of Death Angels. Just like when you discover that Resident Evil 7’s Jack cannot pursue you into certain wings of the Baker Plantation—  or that the once-intimidating Chris Walker can be comically looped around tables in Outlast — so too are these creatures robbed of their menace, when you eventually learn they’re not the ever-present threat the developers would like you to believe.

Unless one is actively patrolling the area you’re in, there’s not much they can do until you pierce the sound threshold. And even that’s just an instant fail state, not an invitation for them to start hunting you more aggressively. Towards the end, Stormind also introduce too many easily exploited tactics that have the unintended effects of trivializing your stalkers. By that point, you become emboldened and less trepidations about the amount of noise you’re making; sapping half the fun from the stealth sections.

Jank and an underwhelming climax aside, I still thoroughly enjoyed my time with A Quite Place: The Road Ahead. It’s got a compelling story, an inexhaustible supply of tension, and a keen grasp of what makes its source material so popular. Most impressive of all, however, it literally made me scared of my own farts.

Developed by Stormind Games and published by Saber Interactive, A Quiet Place: The Road Ahead is out now for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S and PC via Steam.

Review code provided by publisher. 

The post ‘A Quiet Place: The Road Ahead’ Screams Tension While Offering an Emotional Narrative [Review] appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

On the surface, Among Ashes may not look like much, boasting — as it does — lo-fi visuals and rudimentary mechanics. But should you afford it more than a passing glance, hidden depths upon hidden depths will gradually reveal themselves. Considering how much is going on under the hood here, and the fact that just one man is responsible for it all, it’s a very ambitious undertaking that deserves to be commended.

What’s so remarkable is that the self-reliant Ferrer (aka Rat Cliff Games) has effectively produced three experiences for the price of one. There’s the main game itself, the game within that game that your housebound avatar is playing at the start, and then yet another game that they later switch to after getting bored. There are definitely varying degrees of quality to them, and you can tell which of the trio received the most TLC from its creator, but the important thing is that it all feels like part of a cohesive whole.

Indeed, rather than haphazardly lumping together a few disconnected ideas, we’re convinced that everything Among Ashes throws at you has a real purpose and we’re dying to find out how those disparate jigsaw pieces all come together in the finished product. Although we’ve only had a brief appetizer so far — courtesy of a 30-minute demo — we’re willing to go out on a limb here and say that this is one title (or more accurately three) that’s worth keeping an eye on.

I Want To Play A Game

For simplicity’s sake, whenever we refer to Among Ashes from here on out it will be because we’re talking about the framing device in which the other two metagames (Demon Blood and Night Call) are situated. If we don’t nip that in the bud right away then there’s a danger this preview will start to feel like an inscrutable legal document. One littered with off-putting footnotes, confusing sentence qualifiers, and explanatory clauses that are guaranteed to make your head explode ala Scanners.

With that disclaimer out of the way, let’s get into it. Among Ashes opens on an eerily familiar scene, as our protagonist lazes at a desk in his crappy one-bedroom apartment, bathed in the fluorescent glow of a computer monitor and surrounded by tacky Christmas ornaments. From this sad tableau, we can immediately deduce that he’s spending the yuletide all by his lonesome, and that his solution for staving off the holiday blues is to violently kill things in a brand new “Quake knockoff” that he’s just downloaded to his PC.

In case this sets off alarm bells, you needn’t worry. You’re not trapped in the (B.O. fragranced) shoes of some horrible incel here. On the contrary, a quick snoop through his messaging history provides assurance that: A) he does in fact have friends; and B) his current isolation is largely down to poor scheduling. You see, he’s recently moved out of his parents’ house but everyone else in his rolodex is busy, including his roommate and/or romantic partner — the latter of whom we learn is out of town visiting family.

Of course, as any gamer with irksome social obligations will attest, this turn of events can be a blessing in disguise sometimes; freeing you up for the kind of all-nighter sessions that you rarely get to indulge as an adult. And so our avatar takes this opportunity to embark on a holly jolly murder spree; blasting away at satanic hordes in the aforementioned Quake wannabee: Demon Blood. Although truth be told, the title actually bears a much stronger resemblance to a certain other ID Software classic (with enemy sprites that are just barely distinct from cacodemons and imps).

Anyway, it’s at this point that the reins are handed over to us and we get to play a slice of Demon Blood. Or, more accurately, we get to play as somebody else who is, in turn, playing Demon Blood. Keeping up so far?

The title itself is a fairly meat & potatoes boomer shooter. As per genre tradition, we’ve got to navigate traps, weave between incoming projectiles, scour the environment for hidden secrets, and reduce monsters to gooey giblets with our trusty shotgun. It’s nothing special, but it sufficiently engages our lizard brain.

There’s only one problem. The introductory boss is a real fucking asshole: unphased by buckshot and obliterating our health bar with honing attacks that seem to be incapable of missing. It might only be the first level, but our character doesn’t have the patience for this Dark Souls shit and gives up after only a couple of tries. Which is a pretty relatable response honestly.

To be fair, it doesn’t help that our buddy Mark keeps pestering us in the chat window, trying to persuade us to abandon Demon Blood altogether and download this other game that’s currently garnering some notoriety online. All too easily distracted, we end up following a suspicious URL forwarded to us by Mark that leads us down a very peculiar rabbit hole. We guess that asshole boss is just gonna have to wait for now.

“Contains Scenes of Explicit Violence and Gore”

Scanning the (in-universe) landing page that we’ve been directed to, we can’t find much information on Night Call. All we can glean is that it’s a tribute to the vintage survival horrors of yesteryear — in the vein of old school Resident Evil — and that its creator has vehemently denounced it after realizing it was giving off spooky vibes. However, they still left the executable file up for anybody to access, so they’re obviously not too worried about its potential status as a death curse!

You see, rumor has it that Night Call is an especially nasty piece of malware, functioning as a kind of digital equivalent to the Ringu tape. According to this urban legend, there’s something wicked and malevolent etched into the game’s very code. Something that’s beyond the control of even its guilt-wracked author. So, naturally, dickheads like our pal Mark have started daring each other to download it; in spite of mounting evidence that this is a bad idea.

Alas, our curiosity gets the better of us, as it has done for many others in the past, and we end up caving to Mark’s peer pressure. The illicit thrill of tasting forbidden fruit is just too damn enticing and before you know it we’re installing “Imsorry.exe”. Which we’re sure you’ll agree is an encouraging omen.

Having said that, the first impression Night Call makes ain’t too shabby. As far as cursed media goes, it’s actually kinda cool. Usually, this sort of thing is intended to be nothing more than a delivery mechanism for evil, as opposed to content that is meant to be enjoyed in its own right. As such, the quality of the experience often ranks secondary to its ability to inflict and spread the most possible harm.

Credit to the dark forces in this instance then, for making a game that is pretty fun. Compared to the Sadako tape, it’s at least coherent, nicely put together, and worth recommending to a friend (even if that endorsement means dooming them to a terrible fate).

We suspect the reason it’s turned out so well is that its real-life developer, in Ferrer, has a genuine affection for the games he’s paying homage to. A familiar tale of first-responders answering a distress call at a remote mansion plagued by monsters: there’s no prizes for guessing where it’s taken its main inspiration from.

Indeed, even before the zombies turn up, you can feel the palpable RE influence in everything from the heart rate monitor that tracks your wellbeing to the way that key items are highlighted green in text descriptions, the limited amount of saves you are permitted, and the assorted bleeps & bloops that sound off when you’re parsing the interface screens. Hell, the cutscenes lift entire shots directly from Shinji Mikami’s 1996 masterpiece, although the fixed camera angles have sadly been traded for a less authentic first-person POV when it comes to the gameplay.

Meanwhile, from Silent Hill Ferrer borrows the general layout of the inventory menu, as well as the compulsion to namedrop famous horror authors at every juncture (the cast of characters here include an Amy Lovecraft, alongside a housekeeper called Jack King and a Dr. Francis Stoker). Not to mention, the recovery item of choice here is a little bottle of pills that we’re sure James Sunderland would be eager to start popping.

Beyond those superficial elements, however, you can tell that Ferrer just fundamentally gets this subgenre. The atmosphere is spot on and there’s a welcome emphasis on exploration and riddle-solving over combat. We’re not ashamed to say that at one point we even got a little bit stuck, albeit that was mainly because the default brightness setting is absurdly dim; causing us to miss crucial details in the environment.

And while combat may not be the primary focus here, it doesn’t let the side down either. We only dealt with a couple of enemies in our preview, but the melee was satisfyingly weighty and, though nowhere near as cathartic as Demon Blood’s, the gunplay side of things got the job done.

It didn’t hurt that the grisly creatures we faced were themselves quite unsettling to behold (in spite of, or maybe because of, their blocky, polygonal appearance). If you imagine the titular OAP from those Granny games crossed with a maniacal deadite then you’re in the right ballpark. Suffice it to say, we’re looking forward to spending more time with this gruesome lot, as they managed to get under our skin with just a few fleeting encounters.

A Video Game That Truly Is Bad For You

We became so immersed in the nostalgic charms of Night Call after a while that we almost forgot we weren’t really playing it. Instead, we were controlling some shmuck sat at his computer desk, whiling away the hours on a cold December evening.

Occasional 4th wall breaks would help reinforce that notion, whether they came in the form of self-aware commentary from Mark in the chat, or a clever moment in which we had to bypass a “glitched” puzzle by enlisting the aid of the PC gamer community. Hopefully Among Ashes has more of these meta interactions up its sleeve when it launches later this year, as they certainly piqued our interest. Already you can tell that there’s potential for this to go to some very exciting places if Ferrer commits to the bit, particularly when it comes to the horror.

Speaking of which, the most notable example we have of Night Call bleeding over into Among Ashes proper is its obligatory creepy ghost girl. Again recalling Sadako from The Ring, this diminutive phantom stalks us throughout the metagame, even though her presence is never remarked upon by any of the characters. She’s evidently not part of the original Night Call story, her various appearances are abrupt & jarring, and her visual aesthetic isn’t inkeeping with the rest of the assets.

In short, you get the distinct impression that she doesn’t quite belong. Perhaps she’s a leftover from a previous build, or maybe this inexplicable bug is more paranormal in nature. Getting a little wigged out either way, it’s at this point that our avatar finally rises from his office chair and decides to stretch his legs.

We’re then able to dip our toes into the third and final part of the Among Ashes package, but this section lasts roughly two minutes before the demo comes to a chilling end. Transitioning from the retro delights of Night Call to a more contemporary type of horror, the “real world” stuff here evokes the likes of P.T., MADiSON, or Visage. You know, the kind of thing where you traipse around a mundane, domestic environment experiencing increasingly unsettling phenomena, until a terrifying ghoul jumps out of nowhere to send you into cardiac arrest.

The spectral troublemaker in this instance being, you guessed it, that young pipsqueak who somehow infiltrated the code of Night Call. Only now she’s set up shop in our dingey apartment building where she proceeds to: indulge in all manner of poltergeist activity, taunt us from behind peepholes, and materialize out of thin air to give us a good jolt. The latter moment serving as a tantalizing cliffhanger for our demo.

Suffice it to say, it’s an intriguing set-up, even if creepy ghost girls are a little played out by now. We’re definitely curious to see where things go from here, and are also eager to find out how this adolescent apparition ties into the cryptic lore of Night Call. Oh, and while we’re at it, we wouldn’t mind having a rematch with that boss from Demon Blood if it’s still on the cards.

In other words, we’re excited to return to each of the individual games that make up Among Ashes; which is a pretty great result for something that’s the work of one man. Let’s hope Ferrer manages to stick (all three) landings when the finished product hits Steam later this year.

Developed and self-published by Rat Cliff Games, Among Ashes is set for release in Q4 of 2024. The demo we played is available as part of the Steam Next Fest (October 14 – October 21).

The post ‘Among Ashes’ Offers Three Horror Experiences for the Price of One; Let’s Dive into the Demo appeared first on Bloody Disgusting!.

You see, I’m the type of person whose default state of being is “reflexively apologetic” — often begging forgiveness for the sin of daring to exist in somebody else’s periphery — and I have a tendency to blurt out the word “sorry” like it’s a nervous tic. It doesn’t matter if I’m clearly the aggrieved party in a situation; assuming any & all blame just seems like the done thing.

I really am that conflict-averse, and will bend over backwards to placate others if I think it will minimize the risk of me being exposed to the mildest of disagreements. Which I am assured is a very attractive quality by the way; right next to my disarming ability to correct people when they misquote famous movies.

If you’ll pardon me using a questionable phrase (and believe me, I’m always eager to be pardoned for something), I am what some corners of the internet would deem a “Beta.” And given that I am forever cursed to be this way, Speak No Evil at times felt like a direct attack on my character.

Indeed, I found its absurdly polite protagonists — enduring the weekend from hell with phony smiles plastered on their faces — almost too relatable to bear. Bjørn and Louise are both so terrified of causing offense that they’re willing to overlook murderous red flag after murderous red flag when it comes to their blatantly sinister hosts.

Resigning themselves to certain doom — because it’s preferable to having an awkward conversation about boundaries — the couple are trapped in a scenario that I could easily envision myself caught up in. As their tormentors continue to push the limits of acceptable behavior, and the mounting infractions escalate from (semi-excusable) microaggressions to acts of unfiltered hostility, these submissive leads never once retaliate. So preoccupied are they with being the perfect, courteous guests that they just sit there and take it.

Of course, this is the entire thesis of the film. That our need to save face will often trump reason and that such excessive civility can be weaponized against us by those who are less concerned with appearances. It’s a brutally nihilistic story about how the vast majority of people will allow themselves to be walked all over because taking a stand is just too hard. It might take that idea to a startling extreme — and I personally hope I’d have more cojones than the timid Bjørn if I was in his shoes — but it still felt very plausible to me. As did that traumatic ending.

An Unlikely Fit For Hollywood

From the aging of biological cells to the eventual death of a supergiant star, some things in this universe are just inevitable. Like with those scientific certainties, it’s only a matter of time before an acclaimed international chiller is sucked up into the Hollywood remake machine for a quick translation job.

Whether it’s Silent House getting a perfectly redundant update (for people who can’t get past the “one-inch barrier” of subtitles), every single J-horror film under the sun being Americanised in the early 2000s, or Quarantine somehow copying [REC] beat for beat and yet simultaneously paling in comparison; it’s something we cinephiles have come to tolerate. As long as you keep in mind that those originals still exist, there’s no real harm done. Hell, if you’re lucky, you might even get a Let Me In or The Ring out of it.

That being said, I’ll admit that I did balk at the notion of Speak No Evil — of all films — getting an English language do-over. Especially when I found out that the audience-friendly Blumhouse would be overseeing production. It just didn’t feel like an obvious candidate for a US remake. First and foremost, barely any of it is subtitled anyway; with the Danish & Dutch characters only using their native tongues when they’re being cagey,and otherwise communicating through a shared understanding of English.

Plus, there are all of the ways that the Tafdrup brothers’ screenplay actively resists Hollywood-ification. It’s an agonizing slow burn (with nothing much happening until the final 10 minutes), the main protagonists are unusually passive (in a way that makes them difficult to root for), young children are victimized throughout, there’s no cathartic showdown between hero & villain, and it ends on a profoundly miserable gut punch that you cannot imagine going down well with focus groups.

Short of fundamentally changing its narrative and central theme, there’s no way of making this work as a mainstream crowd-pleaser. You’d be better off making a feel good-version of Martyrs or, I dunno, Eden Lake.