Having played only two Silent Hill games, I've
already formed my opinion that this is what
Silent Hill should be. Although the original
marshaled an incredible ambiance, it didn't quite manage
to coalesce it into cogent themes. It lives in my memory
largely as a collection of horror vignettes which, while
strikingly effective given the limited palette of the
PS1, are little more than the sum of their parts.
Silent Hill 2 learns that lesson well, and strides forth confidently with a degree of narrative focus and aptitude that's rare to see in games before or since. Everything in this town of Silent Hill curls meticulously around its true function, even long before the player begins to suspect that it has a function at all. Where the first game just asks the player to experience it, the second asks the player to understand it, and is consistent enough to truly reward that understanding. In doing so, it manages to be effective not just as a game or as a mood poem but as a horror story—something I've never seen another game fully succeed at.
The craftsmanship is also outstanding even beyond the purely narrative realm. When I first played Resident Evil (2002) I was shocked by how much mileage it got out of its much-derided "tank controls" as a means of giving the game itself detailed control over the camera angles without bewildering the player's movement. Silent Hill 2 takes this to the next level, allowing the movement of the player itself to guide the camera along paths that echo those of horror cinematography. My breath was stolen when, in the opening sequence as James walks down a long dirt path through the woods, the camera began trailing him with trees interspersed, using filmic techniques to convey a sense of being watched and stalked.
It's just not possible to do that sort of things with the now-standard two-stick full-motion camera controls, and I became even more thoroughly convinced playing this game that we let ourselves throw away a gem of design in tank controls. They do feel awkward, this I won't deny—but must games always feel smooth? What is life without a little variation in the texture? I dearly hope that one day fixed cameras and relative controls are added back to the toolbox of game design, as I long to see what a game could do if it truly iterated on the way Silent Hill 2 wields the camera as a piece of the artistry during the game itself.
The only place this doesn't rise above its predecessor are the combat and resource management mechanics, which still feel by-the-book relative to Resident Evil's brilliance. The combat is perhaps slightly better here, but only by virtue of being easier to avoid. But if the niche this series is carving for itself is tremendous atmosphere, narrative, and visual artistry, you won't hear a single complaint from me.
Silent Hill 2 learns that lesson well, and strides forth confidently with a degree of narrative focus and aptitude that's rare to see in games before or since. Everything in this town of Silent Hill curls meticulously around its true function, even long before the player begins to suspect that it has a function at all. Where the first game just asks the player to experience it, the second asks the player to understand it, and is consistent enough to truly reward that understanding. In doing so, it manages to be effective not just as a game or as a mood poem but as a horror story—something I've never seen another game fully succeed at.
The craftsmanship is also outstanding even beyond the purely narrative realm. When I first played Resident Evil (2002) I was shocked by how much mileage it got out of its much-derided "tank controls" as a means of giving the game itself detailed control over the camera angles without bewildering the player's movement. Silent Hill 2 takes this to the next level, allowing the movement of the player itself to guide the camera along paths that echo those of horror cinematography. My breath was stolen when, in the opening sequence as James walks down a long dirt path through the woods, the camera began trailing him with trees interspersed, using filmic techniques to convey a sense of being watched and stalked.
It's just not possible to do that sort of things with the now-standard two-stick full-motion camera controls, and I became even more thoroughly convinced playing this game that we let ourselves throw away a gem of design in tank controls. They do feel awkward, this I won't deny—but must games always feel smooth? What is life without a little variation in the texture? I dearly hope that one day fixed cameras and relative controls are added back to the toolbox of game design, as I long to see what a game could do if it truly iterated on the way Silent Hill 2 wields the camera as a piece of the artistry during the game itself.
The only place this doesn't rise above its predecessor are the combat and resource management mechanics, which still feel by-the-book relative to Resident Evil's brilliance. The combat is perhaps slightly better here, but only by virtue of being easier to avoid. But if the niche this series is carving for itself is tremendous atmosphere, narrative, and visual artistry, you won't hear a single complaint from me.
