What about you when you hurt a woman? There is no neat universality here, but for many of us, even most of us, pain is private and domestic. You may think of burdening a single mother while her husband is at work. Father in the waiting room while mother yelled at strangers. A woman going to the doctor about pain, only for him to tell her to lose weight and deny the problem is also happening.
All of these things are easy clichés—tropes stolen from life and television. When silent Hullf connects to a woman’s private pain, it is accompanied by a reduction of specificity. In one of the scariest moments of body horror in video games this year (or ever, really), the film’s protagonist Hanako turns into a symbol of her own grief, her own compliance, her own screams.
Spoilers follow.
Like its predecessors, Silent Hill F takes place in a “real world”, which is shrouded in fog and invaded by twisted human forms, and an “other world”, which distorts reality. Unlike its predecessors, the difference between the real world and the other world is clearly defined. Whenever Hanako faints, she wakes up in another world. At first, it seems that his experiences in his hometown are “real” and that his time in the other world, marked by Shinto monuments suspended over water and dream mansions, is fake. However, the game’s first ending calls this binary into question. The final moments of this sequence reveal that he is much older than he appears. The girl we’ve been playing the whole time is almost a psychic scream, representing the younger Hanako whose dreams were betrayed by the old man.
What was that betrayal? Nothing but a promise to all women: marriage. Her parents have promised Hanako that he will settle the family debt. The real world represents how the arrangement gradually removes his connections to his friends, his family, and himself. The other world stands for his act of courtship. The act of playing Silent Hullf, at least in the initial playthrough, is the act of tearing the hinako along these axes. He is both the victim and the thief. One version of her marriage is the thing that ends the other’s life world.
In another world, a mysterious man known only as Fox Mask courts. After some initial trials, including the ritual killings of her closest friends, Hanako descends the stairs to another set of ritual grounds. At each site, a new torture awaits. First, Hanako saws off her own arm, then brands her back, and finally, they cut off part of her face and replace it with her fox mask. It’s easy enough to write, even though it’s scary. But the visual presentation is disturbing.
Before each ritual, the Fox Cult displays its tools of torture. Then, they go about their work. The camera work is unremarkable, but off-center. We see a medium close-up of Hanako’s face as she pulls a saw across her shoulder, or the blood between her feet as a cultist prepares a knife in her face. Sensation of looking, wants to avert eyes, but unable to look away. Like all of Silent Hill F, there are no interactive elements. Here, the fact is highlighted how Hanako is treated as a commodity, which the Fox Masks and cultists take away at will.
Outside of words of relief and strength from the fox mask, the cultists are completely silent as they perform the rituals. They only communicate their intentions through gestures and gestures. The effect is almost like a pantomime. These rituals are familiar to everyone present except Hanako. The camera zooms in on her alone, in normal schoolgirl clothes, in full surround. He is ignorant. Cultists are his teachers. They carved their lessons on his body.
Hanko’s violent transformation carries over into the rest of the game. For one, it serves as a very sharp distinction between the two hanakos. While the student Hanako wields baseball bats, pipes, and, if he’s lucky, a kitchen knife in the real world, the other Hanako receives a magnificent, monstrous fox arm, a spiritual weapon that will never wear out or break. The brand lets him open new doors, while the mask sees hidden paths. The more Hanko brides, the more power it gains.
However, that power makes him more vulnerable. With each power, Hanako’s “serious” meter drains. Whether it’s an accurate localization or not, I think “severity” doesn’t accurately communicate how the mechanic works. One can also describe it as “will” or “resistance”. Hanako’s Fox Powers wear off the unconsciousness and the town’s regular food items restore her. It represents Hanko’s willingness to become a bride. The more Hanako hugs the fox, the more it will spend. The difference in these mechanics makes an argument for the difference in how the two different hanaku are affected. Every time you use your arm, or regret its absence, you can’t help but think of Hanko’s pain, the tears of blood streaming down his cheeks.
The terrifying power of ritual is something of a double-edged sword. In the latter ending, the game becomes redemptive. Fox Mask, actually a boy named Tsuneki Kotoyuki, is a kind-hearted and virtuous man. Hanako reconciles with her two selves. There is absolutely no subjective problem with this. Fox Mask’s good intentions are even a deeper provocation. The system is uncivilized, however mild-mannered or well-meaning its agents are. Still, Silent Hill F’s boss battles and final run of reconciliation can’t help but feel hollow in the face of the game’s earlier violations.
Still, it’s hard to keep his deflating final end, open after at least three full runs, too much against the quiet Hill F. Few sports can claim to have any moments of such shocking, disturbing power. There is still little detail about these moments with intelligence and complexity. The Silent Hill F does both and more. It matters how much the game makes you feel. Every time Hanako hurt her head, I felt such terror, revulsion and pain, a pang of grief. This feeling will stay with me long after the details of Silent Hill F fade from my memory.
