Silent Hill f: A Return to Dread

I was present for the very first time when the fog started to settle. In front of me was a screen that let out the distinct crackles of the original Silent Hill. In my hands, I was gripping the first version of the PlayStation controller, which was a very odd color and a lot bigger than it is these days. I have played them all since, some I loved, some I tolerated, some I tempered like a mad prophet, even when I knew it was not a great game. And yet, a great many decades older and many consoles later, here I proudly stand to declare as my conviction that Silent Hill f is the very first one I have found that feels like a return to the original in decades. It is not perfect, and it is not the best in class. But it is most assuredly laden with the atmosphere, the type of gloomy tension that put me in the very first place, and the style of ambiguous narration that is the core of the reason we all fell in love with the town many consider cursed.

The Atmosphere: Currency of Dread

This atmosphere is impossible to buy, impossible to earn in a patch. It has to be earned, built slowly and soggily, brick by brick, fog by fog, whisper by whisper. Silent Hill f gets it. The streets are laden with menace, not with jump scares or cheap tricks, but with a tension that gnaws through your bones and into the marrow. The sound of nothing becomes everything. The fog—oh, the fog!—this is the fog I remember. It is heavy and impenetrable, a wall of fog beyond which the world is censored. It doesn’t just obscure; it suffocates.

The audio itself is not background decoration—it is the very medium of dread. Every creak, every impossible hum, every note feels weaponized, designed to corrode the certitude that underlies your psyche. The music, which Akira Yamaoka is legendary for, is both confoundingly melodic and malevolent. This is not nostalgia. This is execution. Such a masterpiece has been sculpted that even the silences become instruments. I would breathe, startled by the audio washing over me. It is ASMR for the doomed.

The Story: Deliciously Ambiguous

Silent Hill f does not feed you information bit by bit. It plops you in the middle of something odd and sorrowful, then gives you fragments, dreams, symbols, and expects you to do the stitching. Much of the time, I was completely lost throughout the entire play, and that is a success. The plotline shifts, mocks, then holds still and denies. Characters come, and then leave within a story without reason, and come back without reason for the illogical logic of Silent Hill, but still, they make sense. Mood, time, and space bend in accordance with each other and not the map. This is how it is meant to be.

The older the protagonist, the more detangled the story becomes. The last sequence of a portion was where I understood something that was punctiliously, yet redundantly, joined in a way that was still confusing. It is the Infection. It is how a Silent Hill story should be for all fans who buy PS5 games: it sinks and stays, only to come back later and at unprecedentedly weird times. The moment I finished the game, I punishingly replayed the ending several times in my head as I fell asleep, bracing myself for the various interpretations, while also replaying the Silent Hill game in my head, only to stay remorsefully gnashed and chewed.

In order to feel completely ‘in’ the game, I played it in Japanese with subtitles. There is an ‘Elite’ setting. Hearing the original language with the subtitles fills in the context with a deeper meaning, evoking a feeling of dread. The clarity within the lines doesn’t feel overly dramatic, which I prefer - I feel no need for embellishments with the atmosphere. The only thing requested is the devastating silence. That is what the world of Silent Hill deserves.

The Combat: A Satisfying Challenge

Hard mode was selected as the first choice for me. I lost multiple times, yes. Falling down on the job, I was also smiling. Each moment was constructed with a nucleus of excitement within battle.  Slices within a second create ruthless traces of flow. Each slash is a spell woven with fabric. These are complete control; no random outbursts of fury. There’s a point where I feel like I’m in a Silent Hill version of Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, when the game’s beauty displays an effortless, flowing configuration. Mastery is summoned, while punishment is available for those who show signs of overconfidence.

Every weapon has its weight. Early on, the factor of durability in combat was an issue I suppressed, so I started accumulating, fearing depletion, second-guessing every swing. Later on, though, toolkits became abundant, and the anxiety of scarcity became euphoric. This is a really well thought-out pacing decision. In the beginning, the thinness of survival was paradoxical, but it forced discipline. In the end, it offered liberation, allowing combat without resentment to the grind. The shrine system for upgrading plus decluttering inventory is a fine detail addition—diagonally simple, elegant, to the point, and deeply satisfying. I shrine’d every shriable slot shrine’d, not out of obligation, but because it was a decision to be made.

Let me admit, I do not shy away from the range of difficulty levels offered. You can engage them in battle, but for those who wish to bask in the splendor of self-punishment, Shiv's hard mode beats bare teeth and claw.

The Enemies: Wicked and Absurd

The monsters of Silent Hill f are more grotesque and absurd than those in any other Silent Hill game, crossing the line into the bizarre and the, at times, utterly ridiculous, partially by design. The game contains a self-shambling “Mannequin” that, at first, is amusing and silly, and then, after the partial consumption of a few cold-sharp frothies, transforms into a twitching and absurd visceral threat out of a bad dream that borders on a “twitching cop-show serial killer” level of menace. The wiggle and jiggle are ridiculous. The most amusing and terrifying monsters are the ones that dance that line of ridiculousness and pure horror, and this one does that line dance like a disco scarecrow.

As of Silent Hill f, the variety of enemies is certainly not vast. This is not a bestiary. It is closer in scope to Silent Hill 2, where fewer enemy types carried tremendous symbolic and mechanical weight. The actions and movements of each enemy are not numerous and repetitive. Tu as le temps, as they say in the cinematographic works of “le Cinema, Le France,” sometimes le meilleur strategy is “le meilleur.”

The World: Otherworlds to Get Lost In

I enjoyed every Otherworld sequence like a child waits for recess. These aren’t just palette swaps – they’re visions of dread meant to bewilder and inspire. While layouts contort, architecture defies logic, and textures bloom into nightmarish impossibilities, every bit of the detail is accurate. This is not chaos; it is order in disorder. These shifts never once left me feeling bored.

Unlike the recent Silent Hill 2 remake, it has smooth gameplay with no performance dips, which makes exploration even better. And I explored without end, often taking minute-long pauses to brazenly absorb the insane detail of every corridor, shrine, and ruin. Silent Hill f rewards slowness, so this is not a sprint. This is a crawl through madness.

The Characters: Alone, as It Should Be

The characters, unlike companions, do not have the luxury of athletes. Their comical entrances and exits, and the lack of a definite explanation throughout the scenes, seamlessly mix with the lore and the rhythm of Silent Hill. The sudden appearance and the disappearance of characters like Eddie and Maria is a precedent. I was thankful that I could, at crucial moments, remain alone. The willingness to get lost in the horrors of Silent Hill and suffer is a fundamental element. It is defeat, it is pain, it is misery that is the truth that sets you free.

The silence within the acting, at times, is more powerful than words. There is no high emotion, nor is there any over-exaggeration. They are individuals, and undoubtedly, with a mass of complicated, unshared stories. It was not possible to like the characters, but it was wholly possible to believe in their existence. It is the most accurate and the most sophisticated.

The Fear: True, Then It Doesn’t Have To Be All True

I truly mean it when I say the game is indeed a scary one. The lack of any type of ranged weaponry made the game much riskier. I was put into the close spaces of a game with a lot of deadly enemies, which was quite terrifying. The first three quarters of the game were terrifying, disconcerting, and made you constantly anxious. The last quarter was all about the combat and not much about the tension.

Do not get me wrong. The combat was a lot of fun, and the fear was replaced with a challenge. The rest of the game I felt was combat-driven, and it was fun all the way through. It is still a video game, and I appreciated that.

The Conclusion: Silent Hill, Reborn

For years, I have been living with Silent Hill. I have experienced it in its glory, its decline, its sanguine periods, and its moments of utter embarrassment. I, myself, with great effort, defended Homecoming. I regarded the others with pity. But Silent Hill f—this one makes sense. It feels unknowable. Some will argue that it is too different, too divergent from the original essence. I get it. But I tell you this: Silent Hill f is, without a doubt, Silent Hill. It does Silent Hill things. It makes me feel Silent Hill things. That is enough.

In all the unnecessary theatrical eloquence of a foghorn in a fog: Silent Hill f is peak. Do as you please with your money. But if you buy PS5 horror games, and you want to step back into that oppressive fog, to get lost, punished, and delighted simultaneously, then I encourage you to do so. Silent Hill has returned. And it is magnificent.