Konami’s long-dormant horror titan returns with a stunning 1960s Japan fever dream: an unforgettable story wrapped around melee combat that will split the room.
You don’t just play Silent Hill f; you inhale it—fog, red spider lilies, splinters and all. Set far from the franchise’s familiar rusted Americana, f shifts the nightmare to 1960s rural Japan, in a mountain town called Ebisugaoka where teenage protagonist Hinako Shimizu watches her home life and hometown curl into something beautiful, alien, and lethal. Konami and developer NeoBards framed the project with a clear mantra—“find the beauty in terror”—and, crucially, enlisted Ryukishi07 (of Higurashi When They Cry) to script it. The result is a harrowing coming‑of‑age tragedy that feels both new and unmistakably Silent Hill.
That ambition is more than marketing. Critics and players have rallied around the game’s storytelling and atmosphere: early reviews have landed it in the mid‑80s on Metacritic and “Mighty” on OpenCritic (average ~87, high recommend rate), a top‑tier result for the series in the modern era. And yet, nearly every discussion comes with the same asterisk: the melee‑only combat is bold—and divisive. Even series producer Motoi Okamoto says he expected that split.
Below, we dig into why Silent Hill f works so well, where it stumbles, and whether this flowered nightmare belongs on your must‑play list.
A New Town, A New Trauma
Silent Hill f is a standalone spinoff—no prior knowledge required—and it wastes no time establishing a different cadence of dread. Hinako is not an archetypal action hero; she’s a student trying to outrun family turmoil when fog swallows Ebisugaoka, and the town starts blooming with higanbana (red spider lilies) and invasive tendrils that creep across familiar interiors. It’s a powder keg of social pressure, grief, and folklore that explodes into body horror. Konami emphasizes that “beauty in terror” ethos at every layer: not just in the writing, but in Kera’s creature designs and a score by Akira Yamaoka and Kensuke Inage that braids nostalgia with menace.
The shift to 1960s Japan does more than change scenery; it reframes Silent Hill’s signature psychological horror through different cultural symbols—ema prayer tablets, scarecrows, shrine maidens—without losing the franchise’s core obsessions. Puzzles are explicitly tied to that cultural lexicon and to Hinako’s inner life, yielding solutions that feel thematic rather than arbitrary.
As a piece of horror writing, f succeeds brilliantly. Multiple outlets call it the series’ most unsettling narrative in years—layered, melancholic, and vicious when it needs to be. Even reviews that balk at the combat concede the story is the reason you push forward. If you bounced off Ascension and felt the Silent Hill 2 remake didn’t scratch the “new” itch, f is the tonic.
Combat: Pipes, Poles… and Polarization
Here’s the friction point. There are no guns in Silent Hill f. Hinako fights up close with scavenged weapons—iron pipe, sickle, dagger, even a naginata in the Otherworld—and everything bends around that premise. A Sanity meter fuels Focus (a slow‑time window to counter and capitalize on openings), while weapon durability forces tough resource calls. You’re meant to feel vulnerable, to pick your moments, to eke out control in a hostile space. On paper, it’s a razor‑edged survival‑horror loop. In practice? That depends on your tolerance for weighty timing and systems.
Some critics argue the melee model is over‑engineered and occasionally clunky—moment‑to‑moment hit reactions don’t always sell impact, dodge windows can feel finicky, and managing stamina, sanity, and durability at once can swamp the tension with bookkeeping. Others find the boss fights arresting, counters satisfying, and the “no firearms” choice thematically perfect. The split is real: story and atmosphere, near‑unanimous praise; combat, a real debate.
Importantly, f lets you separate difficulty for Action and Puzzles—Story, Hard, and the harder “Lost in the Fog” for puzzles—so you can tune the friction to taste without neutering the riddles. If you want the thorniest brain teasers with gentler fights, you can have it both ways.
Puzzles, Progression, and the Pleasure of Dread
If you come to Silent Hill for puzzles, this entry respects your time. The challenges pull from Japanese ritual and iconography (e.g., match the right ema tablets or scarecrows), and they’re woven directly into character beats rather than stapled on like escape‑room detours. Game Informer and others note a healthier variety than recent entries and a gratifying rhythm as you probe schools, homes, and shrines for meaning and escape routes.
Exploration remains the connective tissue: a dense fog masks traversal and disorientation, while the Otherworld’s floral grotesquerie remixes familiar spaces into stage‑managed nightmares. It’s classic Silent Hill geography—intimate, hostile, memorable—reimagined through Showa‑era textures.
Audio‑Visual: The Fog Sings Again
Visually, f is intoxicating in the worst (best) way. Kera’s soft‑elegant silhouette work collides with flowering body horror, and the team finds smart contrasts between tatami warmth and botanical rot. The soundtrack does the heavy lifting too: Yamaoka returns to paint the Fog World, while Kensuke Inage leans into ritual tones for the Otherworld—an ambient dread that rarely relents. It’s a meticulous, cohesive aesthetic that sells the “beauty/terror” thesis at a glance and in your gut.
Performance and Polish
On consoles, gameplay generally targets 60fps while cutscenes are capped at 30fps, a choice multiple reviewers flagged as jarring in transitions. PC performance has been solid across a range of hardware in the early window, and—if you’re sensitive to the cinematic cap—PC players can remove the cutscene lock with Special K at their own risk. Either way, the audiovisual package impresses, particularly with the fog’s volumetric density and the organic, petal‑and‑vine greebles clinging to wood and plaster.
A note on PC tinkering: modders have already demonstrated fog‑less visuals (predictably gorgeous, debatably “wrong” for Silent Hill). You can pull the curtain back; you probably shouldn’t.
How Long It Lasts (and Why You’ll Replay It)
Expect ~10–14 hours for a first run depending on your action/puzzle settings and how thoroughly you explore—shorter if you mainline, longer on higher difficulties. The game also supports multiple endings (five total), some gated behind New Game Plus, which gives you meaningful reasons to revisit Ebisugaoka beyond collectible cleanup. It’s a lean campaign with legitimate replay structure rather than padding.
Practical Stuff: Platforms, Preload, Editions
Silent Hill f launched September 25, 2025 on PS5, Xbox Series X|S, and PC, with 48‑hour early access for the Digital Deluxe Edition. Preload on Steam clocks in around 44 GB. Deluxe buyers also get a digital artbook, soundtrack, and a cosmetic Pink Rabbit outfit; all players who pre‑ordered receive a White Sailor uniform, an Omamori: Peony charm, and a small item pack.
Verdict: The Best Silent Hill Story in Years—If You Can Live With the Fights
Silent Hill f is the rare revival that dares something new without abandoning what matters. The writing is the star—precise, mean, and achingly humane—and it’s staged with painterly confidence across production design and score. The combat? Sometimes thrilling, sometimes fussy, never quite as graceful as the rest. If you can align with (or tune down) its melee‑only demands, you’re in for a top‑tier horror tale that lingers like a bruise.
Play it if you value atmosphere, story, and puzzles over perfect feel. Wait for a sale/patch if you’re allergic to stamina meters, timing windows, and weapon durability.
Buy if…
- You want a new Silent Hill that actually feels new.
- You chase narrative‑driven horror with cultural specificity and multiple endings.
- You loved Ryukishi07’s blend of tragedy and mystery and want to see that voice inside Silent Hill.
Consider/Wait if…
- “No guns” and melee counters sound maddening, not exciting.
- 30fps cutscenes would pull you out; you’re sensitive to frame‑pacing.
As comebacks go, f doesn’t play it safe—and that’s exactly why it works.
