Finally, it has come full circle! The original game made me who I am today - a compulsive hoarder. Only in virtual worlds, thankfully. I was so traumatized by all the panic and creature horror, but most of all - the inventory horror! Unprecedented for the time, the scarcity angle caught me off guard, and, for better or worse, it was never repeated to the same degree within the main series. To this day, I always have oodles of consumables left unused in any RPG, boast Amazon storages of ammunition in shooters, and I've beaten Silent Hill 2 into submission by primarily using a nail board. Bless your shivering, shrieking core, PTSD! Here I am, sinking my teeth into the necrotic pudding once more. Rich and creamy.

In the light of what I just said, it may sound weird, but RE sort of calms me down. There's no other way - you pull yourself together or get pulled apart. Collected, I tune in to its rhythmic pacing and calculated tension. I soak in the atmosphere, flow with the ambiance, and appreciate how the game treats its ripe horror tropes. While my love for Silent Hill is high-functioning, cerebral, what I feel for this franchise is visceral, almost carnal. Undeniably, I'm a die-hard fan. The last time I could call myself a fan happily, I was playing Fallout 2 while listening to Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. But it's coming back now, it's coming back. Happiness, not Limp Bizkit.

https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2639724285
I suppose I need to start this thing off properly with the game's story? I don't even think I need to give you my take on it. Who gives a crap about my thoughts on Mozart, for example? Okay, here you go: virus bad, Barry is my hunny bunny, mansion traps, monsters Cronenberg, your inventory is full, Salieri was falsely accused and then the fallacy was sung by poets for drama points. Not that sophisticated of a premise by modern standards, but a trendsetting classic nonetheless. I would never think of adding or subtracting anything like I wouldn't change a thing about a cat. Here, the golden cheese of outlandish voice acting got fixed, however, the old one remains out there forever, so I don't mind.

With a few notable exceptions, backtracking-intensive puzzles boil down to "I can't wait to get rid of this thing to save up some inventory space" kinds of entente. To boot, every so often, you're welcome to die after failing to figure out the logic behind a strict sequence of steps to perform on the double. No hard feelings though. Each time I inserted another object into another slot and heard the satisfying *click* or took the right course of action, it echoed inside my weary soul. I made some progress, I freed up some space, I lived, after all! Indulging an important relieving pause, my mind starts racing again, I'm on the move. I definitely saw a herb and some sweet shotgun ammo during my last impetuous scamper through the eastern wing.

The remake has added an "Alternative" movement type as an option, but I initially went for tank controls anyway. The keyboard lends itself fine to this scheme, this is how I played the original. Yeah, yeah, you can't just lounge back and enjoy yourself while playing, but I'm okay with hunching like a true nerd. Tank controls have their charm, even some nostalgic value to me. Besides, horror only gets juicier the more uncomfortable it makes you feel... so I told myself until I finally found a spare mini-USB adapter, plugged in my gamepad, and tried the alternative. What can I say? Nothing beats instant turning, tank controls have no chance against such an obscene advantage! Although, they deserve to be honored for serving us faithfully - like horses before the age of cars or spittoons before the age of swallowing our phlegm.

Speaking of paradigm shifts, they did a number on this remake's presentation. The competent use of dynamic lighting and crisp shadows makes certain moments even more dreadful than before, and locations - even more memorable, despite being somewhat drained of color. The detailed body horror of smooth models, headsplosions, and grimy pre-rendered backgrounds look fantastic, getting emphasized by the cinematic camera. In professional hands, dramatic camera angles really tie it all together! Nothing can set things up and create meticulously controlled experiences for a player quite as they do. And thanks to them, the perfect 80's horror sets that are this mansion's intricate, interconnected environments are the scariest character in the game.

Remember the room where you see a zombie around the corner in a mirror or these infamous hallways with cracking windows? Such well-manipulated scares! And you don't always need a threat for things to get eerie - like with these menacing staircase shots snatched directly from Alone in the Dark. Creating tension where there isn't a thing otherwise (as yet) and sustaining it is high art where, needless to say, the masterful sound design does half the job. Sure, clutch angles also cause such jarring issues as obstructing your vision when it's least appropriate, ending up with you getting blindsided by something that your character should've noticed from a mile away. I brush it off by saying that beauty requires sacrifice and sometimes it's chunks of your face.

https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2755107407
You know what would be dakka? To just push-kick a zombie. Could one possibly catch your foot? Then again, hit too hard and you'll get stuck in its rotting guts. Zombie theories! Many of us are wired to always loop back to those in moments of respite. Anyway, it took me a while to learn how to evade properly, and even then, I wasn't exactly a floating butterfly, so I died a lot. In RE, however, losing a whole hour of progress is not a huge tragedy since redoing everything in a more efficient way is a treat in itself. To a degree. It's a genuinely hard game full of devious beginner's traps. After 3 hours of rapidly snowballing collapse, I swallowed my pride and restarted on medium difficulty, amply lubing the inverted difficulty curve.

Even with the new controls and the addition of defensive items seen in recent remakes, the game stays challenging, which is appreciated by veterans and amateurs alike. As for me, I'm happy with my humble "easy" victory for which poor Jill had to die a thousand deaths. I can't say I'm dying to experience an even smaller inventory, so, Chris, my apologies. Jill is the one who's packing. But enough about dying! Killing here is pleasant... and punitive. So cathartic, gory, fairly gratuitous, though simultaneously discouraged by sensible ammo shortage and fast Crimson Head zombies who start spawning later in the game from the bodies you made, but didn't burn or decapitate. It sounds like a nuisance, but no enemy is worse than dogs and birds anyway, trust me. The same goes for their in-game counterparts.

Being restricted and weak lends itself to the genre perfectly. Resident Evil knows how to play these cards expertly, it's confident enough to make you cooperate on its terms. I loved every predicament that it put me through! Making someone enjoy a thing they predictably would is admirable, but to think up mechanics that are repelling on paper and make them work in that someone's best interests I call pure brilliance. Every time you have to leave the safe room, you feel the taste of iron in your mouth, lick your lips that suddenly went dry. Thrilled, you tense up, wondering if you have the willpower for the constricting adventure howling in the corridors beyond. Inhale. Clench that shotgun, focus your senses. Turn the knob. Exhale. Run back in because you forgot to put the damn ink ribbons into the box.

My curator Big Bad Mutuh

[h3]Full Circle[/h3] Finally, it has come full circle! The original game made me who I am today - a compulsive hoarder. Only in virtual worlds, thankfully. I was so traumatized by all the panic and creature horror, but most of all - the inventory horror! Unprecedented for the time, the scarcity angle caught me off guard, and, for better or worse, it was never repeated to the same degree within the main series. To this day, I always have oodles of consumables left unused in any RPG, boast Amazon storages of ammunition in shooters, and I've beaten Silent Hill 2 into submission by primarily using a nail board. Bless your shivering, shrieking core, PTSD! Here I am, sinking my teeth into the necrotic pudding once more. Rich and creamy. In the light of what I just said, it may sound weird, but RE sort of calms me down. There's no other way - you pull yourself together or get pulled apart. Collected, I tune in to its rhythmic pacing and calculated tension. I soak in the atmosphere, flow with the ambiance, and appreciate how the game treats its ripe horror tropes. While my love for Silent Hill is high-functioning, cerebral, what I feel for this franchise is visceral, almost carnal. Undeniably, I'm a die-hard fan. The last time I could call myself a fan happily, I was playing Fallout 2 while listening to Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. But it's coming back now, it's coming back. Happiness, not Limp Bizkit. https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2639724285 [h3]Story & Puzzles[/h3] I suppose I need to start this thing off properly with the game's story? I don't even think I need to give you my take on it. Who gives a crap about my thoughts on Mozart, for example? Okay, here you go: virus bad, Barry is my hunny bunny, mansion traps, monsters Cronenberg, your inventory is full, Salieri was falsely accused and then the fallacy was sung by poets for drama points. Not that sophisticated of a premise by modern standards, but a trendsetting classic nonetheless. I would never think of adding or subtracting anything like I wouldn't change a thing about a cat. Here, the golden cheese of outlandish voice acting got fixed, however, the old one remains out there forever, so I don't mind. With a few notable exceptions, backtracking-intensive puzzles boil down to "I can't wait to get rid of this thing to save up some inventory space" kinds of entente. To boot, every so often, you're welcome to die after failing to figure out the logic behind a strict sequence of steps to perform on the double. No hard feelings though. Each time I inserted another object into another slot and heard the satisfying *click* or took the right course of action, it echoed inside my weary soul. I made some progress, I freed up some space, I lived, after all! Indulging an important relieving pause, my mind starts racing again, I'm on the move. I definitely saw a herb and some sweet shotgun ammo during my last impetuous scamper through the eastern wing. [h3]They See Me Turnin', They Hatin'[/h3] The remake has added an "Alternative" movement type as an option, but I initially went for tank controls anyway. The keyboard lends itself fine to this scheme, this is how I played the original. Yeah, yeah, you can't just lounge back and enjoy yourself while playing, but I'm okay with hunching like a true nerd. Tank controls have their charm, even some nostalgic value to me. Besides, horror only gets juicier the more uncomfortable it makes you feel... so I told myself until I finally found a spare mini-USB adapter, plugged in my gamepad, and tried the alternative. What can I say? Nothing beats instant turning, tank controls have no chance against such an obscene advantage! Although, they deserve to be honored for serving us faithfully - like horses before the age of cars or spittoons before the age of swallowing our phlegm. [h3]I Love Fixed Camera Angles[/h3] Speaking of paradigm shifts, they did a number on this remake's presentation. The competent use of dynamic lighting and crisp shadows makes certain moments even more dreadful than before, and locations - even more memorable, despite being somewhat drained of color. The detailed body horror of smooth models, headsplosions, and grimy pre-rendered backgrounds look fantastic, getting emphasized by the cinematic camera. In professional hands, dramatic camera angles really tie it all together! Nothing can set things up and create meticulously controlled experiences for a player quite as they do. And thanks to them, the perfect 80's horror sets that are this mansion's intricate, interconnected environments are the scariest character in the game. Remember the room where you see a zombie around the corner in a mirror or these infamous hallways with cracking windows? Such well-manipulated scares! And you don't always need a threat for things to get eerie - like with these menacing staircase shots snatched directly from Alone in the Dark. Creating tension where there isn't a thing otherwise (as yet) and sustaining it is high art where, needless to say, the masterful sound design does half the job. Sure, clutch angles also cause such jarring issues as obstructing your vision when it's least appropriate, ending up with you getting blindsided by something that your character should've noticed from a mile away. I brush it off by saying that beauty requires sacrifice and sometimes it's chunks of your face. https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2755107407 [h3]On Curve[/h3] You know what would be dakka? To just push-kick a zombie. Could one possibly catch your foot? Then again, hit too hard and you'll get stuck in its rotting guts. Zombie theories! Many of us are wired to always loop back to those in moments of respite. Anyway, it took me a while to learn how to evade properly, and even then, I wasn't exactly a floating butterfly, so I died a lot. In RE, however, losing a whole hour of progress is not a huge tragedy since redoing everything in a more efficient way is a treat in itself. To a degree. It's a genuinely hard game full of devious beginner's traps. After 3 hours of rapidly snowballing collapse, I swallowed my pride and restarted on medium difficulty, amply lubing the inverted difficulty curve. Even with the new controls and the addition of defensive items seen in recent remakes, the game stays challenging, which is appreciated by veterans and amateurs alike. As for me, I'm happy with my humble "easy" victory for which poor Jill had to die a thousand deaths. I can't say I'm dying to experience an even smaller inventory, so, Chris, my apologies. Jill is the one who's packing. But enough about dying! Killing here is pleasant... and punitive. So cathartic, gory, fairly gratuitous, though simultaneously discouraged by sensible ammo shortage and fast Crimson Head zombies who start spawning later in the game from the bodies you made, but didn't burn or decapitate. It sounds like a nuisance, but no enemy is worse than dogs and birds anyway, trust me. The same goes for their in-game counterparts. Being restricted and weak lends itself to the genre perfectly. Resident Evil knows how to play these cards expertly, it's confident enough to make you cooperate on its terms. I loved every predicament that it put me through! Making someone enjoy a thing they predictably would is admirable, but to think up mechanics that are repelling on paper and make them work in that someone's best interests I call pure brilliance. Every time you have to leave the safe room, you feel the taste of iron in your mouth, lick your lips that suddenly went dry. Thrilled, you tense up, wondering if you have the willpower for the constricting adventure howling in the corridors beyond. Inhale. Clench that shotgun, focus your senses. Turn the knob. Exhale. Run back in because you forgot to put the damn ink ribbons into the box. My curator [url=https://store.steampowered.com/curator/35305390-Big-Bad-Mutuh/?appid=262060]Big Bad Mutuh[/url]