I have a more sympathetic view of James than I think most people do.

At the very least, I believe that my understanding of the game is less emphatic on his flaws and failings than an awful lot of the interpretations I’ve seen others form in fifteen-plus years of playing, thinking about and growing into Silent Hill 2. I also think a lot of these interpretations scrub out a lot of Mary’s worst traits and have a very one-dimensional view of the two’s marriage and relationship, especially given the all-too-great extent to which I can find myself in James’ shoes and understand just what being in the sorts of situations he’s been thrust into can do to you. This isn’t to say that I think Mary is outright an antagonistic figure, that she was necessarily an abusive partner, or that James’ reaction to that pressure coming to a head was justified, nor do I think James is necessarily an innocent or pure soul. I mean, let’s face it, Silent Hill 2 is a 12-hour manifesto about just how much James Sunderland sucks, but… Mary sucks, too. So does Angela. So does Eddie. So does Maria. So do I, and so do you. Don’t we all?

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In spite of Silent Hill 2’s unapologetic and uncompromising portrayal of the rot within the souls of its cast, we’re never given reason to believe that these people necessarily have to be defined by their pain and the maladaptive manners in which it manifests. Not the banality of Americana left to decay nor a grindhouse of grisly guts-and-gore undercut the beating heart within each one of these individuals’ chests; if anything the desolate atmosphere and steady throughline of sorrow amplify the moments of kindness and connection even more.

James, for all of his single-minded spaciness and passive suicidal ideation, routinely makes an effort to treat the people he encounters with dignity and respect, and that effort is often reciprocated if not paid forward in its entirety — though Angela’s concern for James is largely rooted in bouts of self-depreciation and self-loathing, there is still a consistent pattern of the two wishing one another well as they part ways. Even Eddie, who seems to go out of his way to alienate everybody he meets so that he can be truly alone and therefore exempt from judgment, makes a point of awkwardly telling James to take care of himself after their first meeting. While Laura appears to be little more than a menace for much of the story’s runtime, even she pays James’ concern for her safety forward once it becomes clear that they have a common goal in the Lakeview Hotel.

Each of these people are suffering in their own way, and have convinced themselves for one reason or another that they must carry their burdens alone — even James, for all of his tendencies to try and support others where he can, insists on marching upon his chosen path in solitude where he can help it. But even then they appear to acknowledge that perhaps it’s better to be united through suffering, even temporarily and even through acts as evidently-insignificant as acknowledging one another’s hardship. Misery loves company, and even in the midst of a corporeal Hell each and every one of these people are willing to let their innate tendencies towards decency and understanding shine through even as they teeter upon the precipice of their own individual downward spirals. Their best traits and worst traits exist not as compartmentalized aspects that function in dichotomy to one another, but as two parts of a greater whole. They are human. They are people. Silent Hill 2 concerns itself more than perhaps anything else with this duality that exists in all people, the eternal conflict warring within between our best impulses and our worst impulses.

It’s only fitting, then, that each of these people have already let their worst traits win once, before the story even started. Angela, Eddie and most infamously James have all already taken a life before fleeing to Silent Hill, the darkness within them exacerbated and pushed to an irreconcilable breaking point by circumstances largely outside their control. Angela and Eddie are largely victims who were burdened with their worst traits by a lifetime of abuse at the hands of their family and peers respectively, whereas James’ more general negative personality traits and failings were ingrained by systemic prejudice and toxic ideals of manhood and men’s role in a relationship being strained by a marriage slowly falling apart over the course of three years. It isn’t their fault that they have these negative aspects, nobody is born bad (Laura perhaps represents this more than anybody; as a child she is inherently innocent and sees Silent Hill as a normal town for she has no darkness to exploit), but as unfair as the responsibility of keeping these traits in check might be it is a responsibility nonetheless.

As much as I think Angela’s family and (to a lesser extent) Eddie’s bullies had it coming — I am a full-faced proponent of victims’ right to revenge — I think most people would agree that you aren’t allowed to hurt the innocent people around you just because you have been hurt in turn, and that self-destruction often leaves little but a smoldering crater where a person once stood. Angela’s hostility towards James’ attempts at extending a hand (while understandable and outright justified considering James’ own sins and views of women) does little but dig her further into the hole that she was kicked down into as a little girl, and Eddie’s slow descent into serial murder makes him even more of a sinner than the bullies who pushed him to the brink to begin with. Both of these people are given chances to take steps to right their personal wrongs and make an effort to let their best traits emerge victorious, but eventually choose to spiral out and allow themselves to be consumed by their pain, sorrow and trauma. The story frames them with nothing but a level of empathy and respect still largely unseen in game narratives even to this day, and yet it remains frank and up-front about the simple truth of the matter: you cannot heal if you don’t choose to do so.

Where does that leave James, then? What is his role in Silent Hill 2’s portrayal of the eternal struggle between the good in us and the bad in us? His fate is in your hands. As in, you, the player’s.

You see, James is in a unique position compared to the rest of the cast. While he has a backstory, personality traits, characterization and dialogue that is wholly independent of player input, at the end of the day the choices he makes and the ways in which he carries forward in the face of despair are wholly up to the player. Silent Hill 2 actually isn’t a game about killing monsters and surviving in an environment born and bred for hostility. Konami’s been lying to you this entire time, the guns aren’t actually guns. Silent Hill 2 is a game about a man navigating the tightrope path to recovery and trying to make use of the resources presented to him to accept himself, heal, and let go. Will he make it to the other side, shaken and scarred but still breathing, or will he let himself fall and be sent into the depths below?

It’s all up to you.

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You often see people talk about how Silent Hill 2 is actually a pretty easy game all things considered, more or less nixing the “survival” element of “survival horror” wholesale, and I’ve seen a lot of people make a connection between this and James’ apparent need to be coddled and supported unconditionally. I get where they’re coming from there, but I think that Silent Hill 2’s abundance of resources and player agency as far as minute-to-minute gameplay decisions serves a greater narrative purpose. I don’t mean to sound like an “it was all in his head” ass creepypasta dude here, but work with me: weapons and ammo aren’t actually weapons and ammo, health packs aren’t actually health packs, monsters aren’t actually monsters. These are manifestations of James’ ability to fend off negative impulses and the bad parts of himself rearing their head. These are manifestations of his ability to take care of himself and know how to healthily cope when he eventually falters and stumbles on the road to recovery and normality. These are dark thoughts and self-destructive ideations raising up from our subconscious to haunt us, always lurking in the shadows and ready to strike if we aren’t careful. Even Maria’s role as a literal sexual temptress, while certainly representing James’ idea of an ideal, perfect Mary and his desire for gratification battling with his need for catharsis and honesty with himself, embodies the idea that temptation and indulgence in negative thoughts and habits are a means by which we lose touch with the greater picture as far as our mental health goes.

After a point of stumbling around in the dark and eventually making use of whatever resources you can — medication, therapy, the support of friends and loved ones — you begin to get a feel for your own psyche and learn to know yourself, and you also know how to deal with problems when they come up. This is what Silent Hill 2’s gameplay loop is ultimately about, and why James’ minute-to-minute gameplay decisions influence the way his story ends up rather than compartmentalized routes or story choices like most games that play with the idea of multiple endings. If James fails to take care of himself and makes a point of letting his worst traits get the best of him over and over again, then it’s no surprise that his story ends with him viewing redemption as only coming through his own death. If he gives in to temptation and focuses on the wrong things to try and fill the void left by his trauma, he’ll end up stuck in the same situation and look for the wrong way out, repeating the cycle over and over again until something changes.

But — if James is smart, and careful, and puts in the work and effort to take care of himself and fight all of the rot inside him by using the resources and good habits he’s picked up along the way — he might not be able to really ever get better, but he can live with it. He can start to define himself by his best traits again. He can heal. He can look at all the pain that’s got him to where he is now, turn his back, and leave it all behind.

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The greater Silent Hill fandom has found itself locked in arguments for years over which ending of Silent Hill 2 is canon, the “true” ending, or the one that the developers had in mind when crafting the rest of the story. I understand why — and I understand why people find the framing of Silent Hill 2 as a cautionary tale with the In Water ending compelling — but I think to view it all as a series of compartmentalized possibilities and not as individual parts of the same greater statement is cynical and dehumanizing at absolute best. Silent Hill 2 isn’t about one specific outcome of the duality within us all, but exploring the duality itself and how different people might struggle with it in different ways. At its barest core, it isn’t a game about healing, succumbing, or being trapped in self-perpetuating cycles — it is a game about the very act of struggling and the multitudes that this act encompasses. It understands what it means to grieve, to fear, to hurt, to hate, to decay. It understands what it means to relish, to rejoice, to love, to grow, to live. And it understands more than just about anything else in the world the spaces in the margins where these things meet, intersect, clash and struggle for power.

Myself, though, I have my preferences as far as how I like to view the story ending. I find myself in James’ shoes more and more often these days. It’s been a really rough eighteen months or so, man. It just keeps getting worse. Some of it is through circumstances out of my control, some of it is my own doing, but all of it is mine to deal with and mine to choose what to learn from. I’ve lived the selfish, petulant parts of James who doesn’t want anything more than to be loved unconditionally without concern for the people doing the loving. I’ve lived the same experiences as the James who puts his neck out for the people around him only to get bitten and drained dry in turn. I’ve done much the same as James when he lashes out and hurts people around him to try and make sense of his own pain. I’ve been in the same position of James where I have to let people take advantage of me by letting them hurt me and then acting as their solid rock of support immediately after. More often than not these days I’m the James that we see at the very beginning of his descent into Silent Hill: glass-eyed and empty of the spirit, moving on auto pilot as if not quite sure he’s really here to begin with.

But I don’t want to feel this way forever. I don’t think anybody does. Silent Hill 2 understands that, and it understands that getting better isn’t as easy as it might sound on paper. But I’m trying, man, I really am. I want to let the best parts of me prosper and emerge victorious over all of the worst parts of me. I want to return to the point where better days seem like they’re on the horizon and not twenty miles behind me.

And I want to one day be able to look at all of this that I’m experiencing, turn my back on it, and leave.

I had planned to properly review this, but I ended up having so much to say and a lot of ideas for how to convey those thoughts visually that I'd rather turn those thoughts into a more formal video essay. Still, given that it's the site's shared enthusiasm for the game that got me to sit down and play it after The Silver Case kind of knocked me for six with how exhausting it was to play, I just want it on the record that this game fucking slaps.

Running pedometer-measured circles around almost every other self-professed absurdist satire of the medium, Flower, Sun, and Rain is a genuinely hilarious, supremely confident piece that is so good and so ahead of its time that it kind of makes me look less fondly on a lot of games that clearly followed in its wake. It's got more going on than just insular commentary on the medium, but one of my major takeaways was just how much more accomplished and nuanced FSR is in this regard than much of its siblings. In taking video games apart, reducing them to their most fundamental elements, laying bare their sheer, unbridled, artifice, FSR doesn't bring video games down, it shows us why we love them in the first place. Spellbinding.

this isn't really a review so much as it is an emotional plea as to the value and worth of NieR Gestalt. i feel compelled to talk about what made this game so special to me when I played this over 10 years ago now, before NieR becomes completely subsumed underneath the shadow of its vastly more financially successful follow-up. the original nier is an important game to me, and I refuse to let it be forgotten or replaced.

------[a] requiem for smokin' sick style------

the combat is good, actually. and i'm tired of pretending it's not.

maybe it's just because I've spend a disproportionate percentage of my time online hanging with people who think KH2FM and DMC4 are the peak of video games and anything that isn't trying to emulate them is a fundamental failure, but it feels like this is the one stick absolutely everyone beats this game with and it's disappointing.

when Nier hits someone with his sword in this game, there's almost a full second of frame pause as the weapon cleaves into a shade and lets loose abject fountains of blood that paints the environment around the now dismembered spectral body. when he uses magic, he summons a horde of blood spears that obliterate anything they hit. it is one of the most casually violent feeling things in the entire world and it absolutely owns. when this game recontextualises it's violence (refreshingly without falling into "you enjoy the killing" played-out shite), it lands harder than so many other games because of how genuinely violent all this feels, and manages to accomplish it without the cartoonish viscera of something like The Last of Us Part 2.

yes it is stiff and clunky. no, you will not make skillvids of this online. i beg of you, expand your definitions of what makes combat in a game good beyond that narrow field. no other game can be Devil May Cry 4, not even Devil May Cry 4.

------1,312 years [b]efore its time------

representing the satisfying midpoint between the interminable bansky-esqe "makes u think..." philosophy 101 drivel of Automata's lowest points and the insufferable edgelord tendencies of Drakengard 1 & 3 that tended to bury the things about those games that were genuinely interesting, Nier is everything I find enthralling about the DrakenNier games without the things that have ultimately led to me walking away from every other Taro joint feeling disappointed and unfulfilled.

2010 was a really long time ago. NieR came out before The Last of Us, before Bioshock Infinite, before Spec Ops: The Line, before the explosion in indie scene that led to more diverse voices getting a platform on itch.io and steam. maybe taking that into account can help explain why NieR completely changed the way I thought about games. it challenged what i thought video games could be. the way it flirted with different genres and forms was utterly captivating. nier felt like a game from the future or a different dimension. and now it isn't nearly as impressive, sure. it's been mapped out and explained and recapped by people trying to hurry you onto the next, less interesting game. everyone knows about ending D, everyone knows about the drakengard connection, everyone knows about the other routes. but I didn't. when I first played this game, and finishing it unlocked a new game+ that let me hear what the enemies had to say? my tiny 14-year old brain just about exploded, and opened a third eye to just what video games could do. maybe for you the game that did this was killer7, or deus ex, or undertale, or breath of the wild. for me it was NieR.

in a way, this is the real shame about automata, and the way square enix responded to its success. the game itself is fine, good even. but the way in which people have used it to turn this game into a footnote that should be skipped, skimmed, or otherwise treated as a mere prelude to the game about the robots in fetish outfits saying "wot if ur mum ran on batteries and went on about the ship of theseus" is profoundly neglectful.

yes i am being reductive and mean about NieR: Automata. if squeenix wanted me to not do that, they should have been less reductive about this game.

------the [c]ase for papa nier------

when people talk about the story of NieR, it's often the subversive or Lore aspects that are talked about the most, about the details of Project Gestalt and it's implications for the themes and what the ending means and things like that. which is all fine and good. but i think it's worth noting that NieR also just has one of the best parties I've ever seen in a JRPG. weiss. emil. kaine. kaine, most of all. they're all wonderfully well-drawn, complex, and deeply human characters, complete misfits that find a place to fit in each other. it's one of the core appeals of the entire genre and NieR just knocks it out of the park, and (setting aside the fact that I think the game has much more engaging things to say on the subject of parental love and it's toxicity than sibling love) that's why Father Nier matters so much.

because brother nier? he fits. he's a young jrpg hero on his way to save his sister with his party in tow. this is a darkness to him, but he is, overwhelmingly, the normalcy at the heart of the cast. he fits in as a JRPG hero. father nier, though? father nier doesn't fit. nothing about him fits. he's a hideous trollman who makes incredibly earnest speeches about friendship. he is a world-weary and cynical man who takes time to garden and help everyone in his home village. he is just as much of a misfit as the rest of this party, and thus, fits in with them perfectly. he makes this collection of off-the-wall characters, these people that fit absolutely nowhere else in this world, into a family that finds themselves, a place to belong, and people they love, in each other. he is what drives this party dynamic to heights that spoke to me in ways that i didn't really understand at the time, and that is why he will always matter to me.

brother nier is fine. he's cool. he's got some of his own stuff that's interesting.

but he's not my papa nier.