Silent Hill (released February 24th, 1999) did not mark a pivotal moment in the original Playstation’s lifecycle. Technologically speaking, Silent Hill was a solid effort, but nothing unusual for the time. Foregoing the pre-rendered backgrounds that were horror games’ stock-in-trade, Silent Hill’s full-3D environments weren’t as pristinely rendered as Konami’s own, year-old Metal Gear Solid. The CGI cutscenes, another requisite of the era, were competent but by no means up to the Squaresoft gold standard. Its control was wonky, its camera unwieldy, and the voice-acting was stiff even for a Playstation game. Of course, none of that matters. Silent Hill was a pivotal moment in game’s maturation as an affecting, expressive medium. Forget technology; its technical failings made it a stronger work. Forget genre; Silent Hill is not survival horror. It’s just horror.
The game’s premise and story are simple enough: widower Harry Mason travels to scenic Silent Hill with his adopted daughter Cheryl. On the drive there, during some of the game’s plastic-doll-CG, Harry almost hits someone standing in the road and crashes. When he comes to, he’s alone on the foggy streets of Silent Hill and the game has shifted to its playable state. Snow falls around Harry but doesn’t collect on the ground. From here, you, as Harry, follow what might be your daughter down a series of alleyways. As you go further down the alley, the camera shifts abruptly to successively stranger angles, mundane brick walls shift to rusting corrugated metal and rotting chain link fences, and silence gives way to buzzing dissonance. By the time you get to the end of the alley and find an eviscerated, inhuman body hanging from the wall, the gory imagery isn’t nearly as unsettling as the walk has been.
This opening sequence defines both Silent Hill as a series and its enduring legacy. The game that follows constantly shifts perspective in pushing you through the town’s locales, and there is no real safe haven. The game in Silent Hill is traditional exploration-puzzle-progress play made fresh by an unpredictable light-dark world dynamic. It’s not that one is good and one is bad; they’re both aggressive places. The duality is meant to unsettle and disorient both you and, in the hazy story, Harry. Every aspect of the design fuels that disorientation, too. Throughout Silent Hill, your field of vision is constantly obstructed, either by fog or darkness, a clever work around of the Playstation’s limitations, but essential to the game’s tone and goals. Akira Yamaoka’s sound design and its spectacular stereo mixing also aim to disturb. The game’s gurgling and grunting enemies are typically out of site until they’re right on top of you, and the only thing that signals their proximity is the static squall of the pocket radio you find early on. The awkwardness of the game’s acting, both the voice work, the script, and the animation of the characters, also serves the game’s atmosphere. While I’m not convinced it was intentional in the original Silent Hill, this sort of stilted drama has become a mainstay in the series, to great effect. It enhances the impressionistic tone, and lets the game’s unreality take root instead of constantly forcing linear plot on the player.
Horror games in 2009 are still made in the mold of the Playstation era: the dog-through-the-window scares of early Resident Evil, ominous-Gothic-setting of Tecmo’s Deception, and monster-escape of Sunsoft’s Clock Tower are still largely the types we see today. Sony’s Siren and Tecmo’s Fatal Frame series take atmospheric cues from Silent Hill, but are more tangible, less abrasively psychological games in subject matter. Even Team Silent took the franchise in a more digestible direction. After following up with Silent Hill 2 – a game that realizes every one of its predecessor’s ambitions – the team went on to make two more sequels that bear more tonal/structural resemblance to Resident Evil than their source material. The closest thing to a spiritual successor has been Punchline and Shuji Ishikawa’s Rule of Rose; Rule of Rose relies even more heavily on visual metaphor to convey its story than Silent Hill. (Unfortunately, it’s almost completely unplayable.)
Much as Silent Hill was informed by other games and media – the horrible “other world” and enemy designs recall Adrian Lyne’s Jacob’s Ladder and the metaphor-heavy psychosexual narrative shares many of David Lynch’s more recognizable tics – it has managed to stand on its own artistic merits ten years on. Sadly, it just isn’t very easy (or fun) to play any more. Its technological failings certainly helped it to be a creative triumph. But those failings don’t do it any favors as a game today. It doesn’t help that the game has never been re-released outside of its inclusion in the Japan-only Silent Hill Ultimate Box in 2006. With the Team Silent disassembled and the series now in capable, albeit not very creative, hands, it’s unlikely that Silent Hill will ever have the same impact it did a decade ago.
Previously on Ten Years Ago This Week:
Syphon Filter
Alpha Centauri
Related links:
Silent Hill: Homecoming is, Thankfully, Both Silent and Hilly
Screen Test: Silent Hill Homecoming
OST: Rule of Rose