Silent Hill f masterfully reinterprets the legendary horror series for today’s audience, delivering a powerful homage while forging its own path as a compelling vision for the future of Silent Hill. This review explores why this new entry stands out.
Without a doubt, Silent Hill 2 stands as the most pivotal and celebrated entry in the iconic series. As a devoted fan, I found myself less enthusiastic about the 2024 remake, and even less so for Bloober’s upcoming rendition of the original. However, Silent Hill f presented itself differently. I strongly believed that a truly excellent new installment was the ideal way to rekindle the series for a contemporary audience, rather than simply rehashing what made the first three games so cherished. My instinct proved correct.
Silent Hill f captures the very essence of what makes the series special — particularly Silent Hill 2 — without resorting to direct imitation. Its modern graphics and thoughtful design choices consistently enhance the experience rather than detract from it. Developer Neobards has skillfully updated elements while remaining deeply faithful to the core spirit of the series’ greatest titles. This commitment makes Silent Hill f an instant classic, cementing its place in the canon in a way that previous entries like Homecoming, Downpour, and The Short Message simply couldn’t.
The game opens with a poignant cutscene, introducing our teenage protagonist, Hinako, seated at a dinner table with her family in a quaint 1960s Japanese town. A palpable tension hangs in the air: an abusive father, a meek mother, and a rebellious Hinako immediately hint at the inner turmoil this young girl is destined to confront.
The title screen that follows these crucial few seconds offers a potent tease of what awaits in Silent Hill f. An unsettlingly nostalgic melody leaves no doubt that you are indeed playing a Silent Hill game. Simultaneously, the haunting sounds of a nohkan flute (or a similar high-pitched instrument) accompanied by Japanese lyrics elegantly fuse the series’ legacy with its fresh, new setting.
From this point, your first objective emerges: ‘head down the mountain’. This seemingly mundane task subtly mirrors the opening of Silent Hill 2; much like James Sunderland’s descent into town, Hinako embarks on her own journey. Mere minutes into the game, it’s evident that we’re in for at least a respectful homage.
However, I wasn’t immediately captivated by f. A piercing wind, perhaps even rain, whistles through your headset, yet the surrounding trees and leaves remain eerily still. Hinako’s awkward movements as she trudges down the hill felt clunky, a momentary stumble after its impeccably executed introduction. Yet, don’t allow these initial impressions to deter you from delving deeper into the encroaching fog. Despite some rigid animations—yes, Shu, I’m looking at you—Silent Hill f gradually blossoms into something truly captivating.
Upon reaching the base of the mountain, you arrive in Ebisugaoka, a charming Showa-era Japanese town that serves as home to Hinako and her high school friends. While Ebisugaoka’s appearance starkly contrasts with Silent Hill, its exploration feels remarkably familiar. You don’t simply pick up a complete map; instead, it gradually fills in as you delve deeper into Hinako’s distorted hometown. Most residents are conspicuously absent, trucks and debris obstruct pathways, countless doors remain locked tight, and the intricate alleyways of Ebisugaoka almost feel like they could be overlaid onto a map of Silent Hill. Despite the presence of monsters, I quickly felt at home.
Rather than the familiar concept of the Otherworld, Silent Hill f introduces a secondary location known as the Dark Shrine, which boasts a completely distinct style and gameplay. This divergence is far from a negative. One of my primary critiques of the Silent Hill 2 remake was how its modern graphics inadvertently polished away the grotesque grime of the Otherworld. Where PS2-era visuals perfectly conveyed the uncomfortable, claustrophobic atmosphere of SH2’s alternate reality, Silent Hill f’s counterpart is instead an opulent space that unsettles for entirely different reasons.
The Dark Shrine is not merely an alternative version of Ebisugaoka; it’s a dream world that Hinako enters when she falls asleep or is knocked unconscious, a frequent occurrence. It is as breathtaking as it is disturbing, featuring outdoor areas primarily composed of bridges surrounded by water or thick fog, while its interiors are dominated by corridors lined with gilded kitsune statues and rooms dedicated to shrines and talismans. It’s a separate realm where Hinako’s deepest fears manifest. The deity of Inari, often depicted in Japanese culture by the kitsune fox, is a recurring motif, symbolizing shapeshifting or, more precisely, transformation.
However, just because the Dark Shrine doesn’t look like Ebisugaoka doesn’t mean it isn’t two sides of the same coin. The town’s gradual decay reflects Hinako’s real-world decline, while the Dark Shrine vividly portrays her anxieties about the future. This remains a Silent Hill narrative, albeit with a new protagonist, fresh fears, novel threats, and an entirely new world.
Before its release, we knew that Neobards was embracing the Japanese horror motif of ‘terror in beauty’. This thematic thread is intricately woven throughout Silent Hill f, not only in Hinako’s personal journey but also in the grand design of the Dark Shrine and the floral corruption plaguing Ebisugaoka. This is made even more poignant by how the monsters, particularly the mannequin-like foes, evolve as the game progresses and their infection intensifies. The more ‘infected’ they become, the more beautiful they appear, and the tougher they are to defeat. Without revealing too much, this appears to symbolize resilience, especially among the game’s female characters. The more these exquisite female forms endure, suffer, and survive, the stronger they become.
As a huge admirer of Masahiro Ito’s work, it was disheartening to learn that the creator of iconic designs like the mannequin, nurse, and Pyramid Head would not be involved in this project. While I still believe he would have been an invaluable asset to Silent Hill f—especially considering his Sakurahead design from The Short Message—the artist known simply as Kera has delivered truly remarkable work in his stead. Kera’s fresh interpretation of mannequins and their gradual descent into corruption is just the beginning; childhood toys mutate into terrifying creatures, and one of the most memorable enemies vividly portrays the horrors of motherhood in a gruesome form.
Speaking of monsters, the game’s combat system is incredibly satisfying. Each enemy type features a unique moveset to master, ranging from swift slashes and broad, heavy swings to lunging ranged attacks. As you advance, you’ll frequently face multiple foes at once, with challenging boss battles presenting the toughest obstacles. At times, avoiding monsters proves more difficult than in earlier Silent Hill titles, often forcing you into engagements you might have preferred to bypass. To mitigate this, weapons and health items are readily available throughout Ebisugaoka, which occasionally makes Silent Hill f feel somewhat easier than expected on the recommended difficulty. Some consumables also offer a secondary function: they can be exchanged at save points for Faith, which is then used to upgrade Hinako’s health, stamina, and other attributes.
One familiar name returning to the fold is sound designer and composer Akira Yamaoka—which likely explains why that opening theme feels so recognizable. While a newcomer like Kera has excelled with her monster designs, Yamaoka’s composition of Ebisugaoka’s soundtrack feels absolutely essential. With every step, every subtle sound, and every musical sting, you’re powerfully reminded that this is, without a doubt, a genuine Silent Hill experience. It’s worth noting that Akira is joined by Kensuke Inage for the Dark Shrine’s audio and music. Initially, I questioned the decision to have a separate composer for the Otherworld. However, considering my earlier thoughts on why the Dark Shrine thrives as a wholly distinct location, it makes perfect sense for Inage to give it a unique sonic identity.
The puzzles are just as crucial as the setting and combat, and Silent Hill f absolutely nails them. You’ll encounter simple brain-teasers, some that can be brute-forced, and others that demand genuine thought—especially on hard mode. While entirely new and seamlessly integrated into the unfolding narrative, they resonate powerfully with the most memorable moments from Silent Hill’s past.
One of my few criticisms is that Silent Hill f occasionally lacks the subtlety of its predecessors. The series is renowned for its allegory and open-ended interpretations, but much of Hinako’s fear and loathing is presented quite explicitly. While the story, penned by first-time Silent Hill writer Ryukishi07, maintains some mystery into its latter half, voice lines such as “The road twists and turns; it’s like I’m walking through my head” leave little to the imagination. And while we may not be in Silent Hill itself, a thick fog blankets both Ebisugaoka and the Dark Shrine, yet a literal ‘Fog Monster’ might be a touch too on the nose.
Then there’s the save system. Desperately searching for a dedicated save point or painstakingly backtracking to one is as integral to the classic Silent Hill experience as the fog itself. Regrettably, Neobards leaves this tradition in the past by incorporating a frequent autosave feature that cannot be disabled. However, borrowing a page from soulslike games, the Hokora shrines also serve as locations where you can level up or trade items, making them an essential stop even if you no longer rely on them solely for saving.
Perhaps f’s more direct storytelling and autosave mechanics are part of a deliberate effort to update the series for an era with shorter attention spans. Despite its 1960s setting, the game still powerfully addresses several very real, contemporary issues, including patriarchal control, female oppression, and mental health. This is Silent Hill, after all.
The inherent challenge of creating a new game in a cherished series is that comparisons to earlier entries are unavoidable, and often necessary. If you dare to use the Silent Hill name, you are obligated to honor its legacy. While I occasionally doubted Neobards’ ability to carve its own place in Silent Hill history, f has unequivocally won me over. It stands as an exceptional homage to the entire series, while simultaneously laying out a compelling and robust vision for its future.