Silent Hill f is a gripping psychological horror game with feminist themes and cultural depth

Why Silent Hill f? Before players even begin to grapple with the survival horror game’s many unanswered questions, they may find themselves pondering why this new standalone entry in the Silent Hill series (the first original full-length title since 2012) has been granted that lone extra letter at the end of its name. 

Developers NeoBards Entertainment and publisher Konami have been deliberately mum, evading clarification and encouraging fan theories.

The most convincing hypothesis (at least as far as this reviewer is concerned) is that the f is a musical reference, standing for Forte, meaning loud or strong. Because Silent Hill f is a noticeable evolution of the franchise formula in both location and mechanics, offering something more intense and visceral, without sacrificing the psychological torment fundamentals that Silent Hill was built on. 

Moving away from the fog-shrouded American town of Silent Hill, f shifts the nightmarish action for the first time to Japan — the nation that birthed the Silent Hill games 24 years ago — and goes all in in terms of mining that setting’s unique aesthetic, distinct horror traditions, and Shinto faith with its dramatic iconography.

Taking place in the fictional, rural town of Ebisugaoka in the 1960s, Silent Hill f centres on high schooler Shimizu Hinako (played by a motion-captured Konatsu Kato), who, following an argument with her parents, meets up with her friends outside the local general store. 

Before they can question why the settlement is so unusually quiet, a strange mist rolls in, bringing with it stomach-turning creatures, a creeping red pestilence that is as much floral as flesh, and an omnipotent entity lurking in the gloom. 

Is it madness on Hinako’s part, a bizarre natural phenomenon, or a curse relating to Inari, the town’s patron deity?

Not only must our heroine navigate the streets armed with a pipe and whatever other fragile, improvised weapons she can find, but she is routinely whisked away to an alternate reality known as the Dark Shrine. Monsters stalk this space too, but Hinako finds herself under the thrall of the dashing Fox Mask. Complete the mysterious figure’s mental and physical trials, and she will find peace, and an elevated status in the spirit realm.

For a large part of Silent Hill f it’s very hard to make sense of what’s going on. Like Hinako, you just go with it, carried along by the relentlessly unnerving atmosphere, and striking Unreal Engine 5 visuals. Standout stages include Ebisugaoka Middle School and the ominous Ritual Chamber. 

Silent Hill f should be experienced in the dark and quiet, with headphones to appreciate the superb sound design, and a commitment to careful, slow exploration instead of adopting an action game attitude and sprinting around levels. Part of the pulse-racing thrill is listening out for patrolling monsters, and anticipating the inevitable ambush from a doorway or alley.

As you gather narrative fragments and Hinako’s journal entries expand, Silent Hill f takes a surprising and fascinating form. 

It’s strange that the usual woman-hating online crowd hasn’t singled out the game for attack because f is best described as feminist psychological horror. It’s not subtle about it at all, but on every creative level Silent Hill f finds a way to take society’s expectations of women, and traditional gender norms, and show them through a warped lens that is disturbing at best, and horrific at worst.

It’s not a coincidence that Ebisugaoka’s monsters include an amalgamation of shrieking porcelain doll parts, a naked patchwork of female flesh scarred with a permanent smile, and a grotesque birthing being that is nothing but engorged breasts and bellies. 

Then there’s the fact that one of the most powerful weapons in the game is a humble kitchen knife. It’s tempting to go on, but anything more would be spoilers, and it’s best to uncover the game’s narrative and thematic richness for yourself.

One final key point, though, is that there is a lot of literal facelessness in Silent Hill f. 

Tomboyish Hinako sees marriage as an erasure of self, one that turns female allies into spiteful enemies or wholly indifferent figures. Related to that, Silent Hill f casts those dreamy magical boys from Ghibli films like