One person’s fond memory is another person’s trauma response.


Like a first date at a Waffle House, for example

I was struck with quite a queer feeling when deciding how to begin opening up my address of the Silent Hill 2 Remake (SH2R), as even though this is my first time playing through the remake itself, SH2 is well traveled territory. For me personally, but also just for the gaming zeitgeist at large. People know it: it is a known known, and kind of reminds me of why I in fact, avoid writing about any games that are too familiar, as I feel needlessly throwing more white noise into the cacophony of chaos that surrounds such titles is a pointless endeavor, almost as if I possess a sense of JOMO-Joy of missing out, instead of FOMO, with gleeful abandon, I may add.

I know the comparison is imperfect, as SH2 is not a great 1:1 comparative to the Mona Lisa, but they both carry a hefty social currency about them, so many seek to be seen or associated with them. To that point, much like the absurdity of traveling all the way to the Louvre to get a chance to take a picture of such a known painting, it begs the question of whether or not this is some kind of shared irony in someone wanting an authentic chance of earning the right to wear a shirt that says “I shit my pants in Silent Hill”, just so you can let everyone know how you proudly get your ass dirty in your spare time.

I know that’s not what people are necessarily thinking when they do these things, visit a famous historical site, or play a new video game, as in “why do it?….it’s already been done”. That would of course be a silly conclusion to jump to, not climbing a mountain cause others already have, though the replication of the experience in material form, whether it be a picture of the event or some merch representing it, does kind of condense a whole experience into a cheap little throw away knick-knack, condensing an entire human experience into a basic signifier of sorts, trying to tell the world who you are by what adorns your mantle, in whatever metaphorical pretext that showcase ends up taking.

Just to clarify: this is me in fact, deconstructing my own attempt at finding the angle at which to approach my article(s) about SH2R from. As has *just* been made explicit, I have no admiration for cheap totems or gaudy chotskis with which to jangle for thirsty onlookers yearning for the peacock’s bravado to ensnare them with. There has to be meaning inherent in the observations put to screen, it cannot be a thing-in-itself; the form and content of my own retelling of the events of what transpires in the game are just as interpreted through phenomenon by me as they will be by you, and far beyond what the simplicity of pure objective reality could provide, as if such paradox were possible.

Within those metrics, I feel a sense of challenge to rise up to, in providing more than just some gimmicky tourist brochure involved with the recounting of the game in its entirety, and at the very least, avoid the pitfalls that would come in this attempt resembling anything quite as shallow as say, a picture from a concert I went to that I’m mindlessly now trying to shove directly in your face as some kind of fit of faux flirtatious realism related to proof of existence. The gaming realm is filled to the brim with far too many 40 year old adolescents, trolls, streamers, and trustees of modern goonerism for my liking, and to stay true to an idiom I think continues to hold merit, be the change you want to see in the world…virtual or otherwise.

I guess in kind of a reductionist but respectful sense, the SH2R isn’t just the SH2R, the metaphysics that surround the title make it much more of a signifier, and due to its relevancy within the zeitgeist of gaming, it certainly takes on the merits worthy of such critique, considering how grand a monolith we have in front of us, one we need to collectively get past, instead of thoughtlessly gawking at within moments of gruesome wonderment involved in the structure itself, as if paralyzed by its gaze into a state of arrested development.

We may attempt to break down the “why” of the paralysis, and discover just what the structure is made out of, when viewed through the lens of a much more important social construction than just the surface level appearance the game would present upon first glance. Perhaps part of my aim here, in understanding what Silent Hill represents, and the meaning inherent with which we will draw from, is parsing the details that some may take for granted, or maybe in some sense, in an entirely erroneous manner, and in these ways remain fool-heartedly locked into the majesty of the memory, frozen in time like an insect in amber.

Where others may see the splendor of what the world looks like through rose tinted glasses, upon further examination, I discover the grim reality of blood soaked shades which colors the experience.

~Pashford