Welcome to Silent Hill, its beautiful lakeside parks, and well-maintained roads
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You are James Sunderland and you are running for your fucking life, trapped in a tiny room with a murderer and a rapist who is armed and covered in the blood of something not-human. You know you're going to die here. There's no escape and you're armed with nothing but a board with a nail in it. Then, as you run, panicked and panting, trying to avoid the inevitable blade of the lumbering figure, you remember:
You have a gun.
Backing into the corner, you shakily lift the handgun and shoot.
And shoot.
And shoot.
Your aim must be terrible, because your bullets aren't even nicking the man born of nightmares.
There's nothing that can save you. Maybe you just don't want to live enough.
You reload your gun, but there's no point, not really.
And then the monsters' monster turns his back on you and begins a slow descent into the water that fills the staircase.
Apparently this monster, this rapist, this murderous creature of nightmares, has a very short attention span.
The water drains from the staircase as the man in the red helmet stomps out of sight and, considering the state you're in, you don't have the energy to question it. You check the door that goes back into the hallway.
It's unlocked, now.
After the ordeal, the smell of decay, black mould, blood and feces seem a welcome relief. You stagger down the hall, checking doors. All you really want to do is sit down and collect yourself.
In one room you do find a couch, but it's in no condition to be sat on and it's littered with rounds of unused ammunition, which you pocket to replace those you wasted in the incident you will never speak of again. You open the door to what you think is the bathroom and find an actual human being.
It's the woman you met in the graveyard, who warned you against entering Silent Hill. Angela. She's curled up on the floor, shaking, her back against a mirror the size of the wall. She has a knife in her hands and she looks ready to do something fatal. You clear your throat, interrupting her, drawing her attention to yourself as you kneel. You try to remain calm, you introduce yourself properly. Gently, you discourage Angela from doing anything she might regret. You ask if she found who she was looking in the graveyard. She says no and asks if you've found the person you're looking for.
No, not yet, you admit, but you suppose Mary being dead could be complicating matters.
For some reason, Angela seems unnerved by this statement.
You try to make further small talk, but Angela is in a bad way, babbling in an increasingly muddled manner. She gets to her feet, though, and agrees to give you her knife. She's worried about what she might do with the knife in her possession.
As you move to take the knife from her, Angela screams, begging you not to hurt her, and drops the knife, disappearing into the hallway.
She must be a very sick woman.
You pick up the knife
There's a smear of blood on the tip of the knife, but it otherwise looks unremarkable. You don't believe it will protect you from the advances of the uncoordinated leg monsters, so you pocket the knife and stick with your trusty board.
Leaving the room, you can't see where Angela might have gone. You return to the stairs, hoping you've given the man with the red helmet time to go far, far away from the building, and head down.
On the main floor, there's little to do but ... leave.
Once you've done it, once you're standing outside the apartment, then outside the common grounds, it's hard to believe.
You are ready to leave.
Not Silent Hill, that possibility hasn't entered your mind.
But you can now put your ordeal in the apartment behind you and focus on finding your wife. Checking your map, you're fairly certain you can get to the park by the lake, if there aren't anymore potholes to hell blocking your way.
You head down the street.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice movement. You grip your board tightly and approach.
It's the little girl from the apartment building - you will never be rid of things that remind you of that special hell. The little girl doesn't apologize for kicking your hand and making your exploration of the decaying fire hazard more difficult. In fact, she taunts you, and accuses you of having never loved your wife in the first place.
You can't even begin to interrogate the little brat before she runs off, disappearing into the fog.
You try not to wonder if your grief and lack of will to live is being interpreted as the presentation of a man trapped in a loveless marriage or if the little girl actually knew your dead wife. You have a goal. You continue to the park.
A sense of increasing desperation builds up in you. If Mary isn't here, you don't know where she could be. You search the bushes and gazebos, twisting paths and crumbling statuary of the park without success.
Finally, you emerge from the fog and find the lake, an abandoned hotdog stand, and ... Mary?
Mary is standing by the lake, looking beautiful and healthy and alive and everything you've just went through seems worth it, and you aren't going to question this and when did Mary have a chance to get a haircut while she was dead, and why is she wearing such a short skirt and ...
The woman standing by the lake isn't your wife.
The woman smiles at you and introduces herself as Maria. You try to explain that you mistook her for your dead wife and she flirts with you, teases you about your relationship with your wife, suggests you loved her, suggests you hate her ... It's all very confusing and when Maria decides you need to accompany her for her protection, you can't form a coherent argument about why you'd rather not.
Maria suggests Mary isn't in somewhere in the park, but another special place in Silent Hill - the hotel on the lake, where she is very sure you and Mary made many happy memories.
You do protest this complete stranger implying things about your sex life with your dead wife, but you also decide she's right - Mary must be at the hotel.
Now you just have to get there.
You head down the street towards the hotel and are alarmed when, out of the darkness and fog, crumbled balls of legs appear to be thrown at you, shambling to one set of their feet and attacking. At this point, their appearance only seems slightly odd and unsettling, and Maria doesn't say a thing about them. You don't want to make the situation awkward by mentioning the flying balls of women's legs, so you keep your mouth shut, hit them with your board, and keep moving.
The direct path to the hotel is blocked off - road maintenance in this town is truly terrible. You and Maria are forced to look for a longer, circuitous route, which you don't immediately find.
What you find is a bowling alley, the door to which is miraculously unlocked. You open the door, but Maria stays outside. You understand - you aren't a fan of bowling either.
Inside you hear voices.
Eddie, the man from the apartments, has recovered enough that he's now eating pizza - where did he get the pizza? you should ask if you get the chance - and he's having a heart-to-heart with the little monster girl who claims to know Mary. When she sees you, the little girl runs off.
Her name is Laura, according to Eddie, and while he agrees that you should be concerned about a little girl, even a bratty one, running around the town by herself, he doesn't seem interested in going after her.
She knows something about Mary, though, or might, and you see no alternative but to follow her yourself.
You forget to ask Eddie about the pizza.
You are James Sunderland and you are running for your fucking life, trapped in a tiny room with a murderer and a rapist who is armed and covered in the blood of something not-human. You know you're going to die here. There's no escape and you're armed with nothing but a board with a nail in it. Then, as you run, panicked and panting, trying to avoid the inevitable blade of the lumbering figure, you remember:
You have a gun.
Backing into the corner, you shakily lift the handgun and shoot.
And shoot.
And shoot.
Your aim must be terrible, because your bullets aren't even nicking the man born of nightmares.
There's nothing that can save you. Maybe you just don't want to live enough.
You reload your gun, but there's no point, not really.
And then the monsters' monster turns his back on you and begins a slow descent into the water that fills the staircase.
Apparently this monster, this rapist, this murderous creature of nightmares, has a very short attention span.
The water drains from the staircase as the man in the red helmet stomps out of sight and, considering the state you're in, you don't have the energy to question it. You check the door that goes back into the hallway.
It's unlocked, now.
After the ordeal, the smell of decay, black mould, blood and feces seem a welcome relief. You stagger down the hall, checking doors. All you really want to do is sit down and collect yourself.
In one room you do find a couch, but it's in no condition to be sat on and it's littered with rounds of unused ammunition, which you pocket to replace those you wasted in the incident you will never speak of again. You open the door to what you think is the bathroom and find an actual human being.
It's the woman you met in the graveyard, who warned you against entering Silent Hill. Angela. She's curled up on the floor, shaking, her back against a mirror the size of the wall. She has a knife in her hands and she looks ready to do something fatal. You clear your throat, interrupting her, drawing her attention to yourself as you kneel. You try to remain calm, you introduce yourself properly. Gently, you discourage Angela from doing anything she might regret. You ask if she found who she was looking in the graveyard. She says no and asks if you've found the person you're looking for.
No, not yet, you admit, but you suppose Mary being dead could be complicating matters.
For some reason, Angela seems unnerved by this statement.
You try to make further small talk, but Angela is in a bad way, babbling in an increasingly muddled manner. She gets to her feet, though, and agrees to give you her knife. She's worried about what she might do with the knife in her possession.
As you move to take the knife from her, Angela screams, begging you not to hurt her, and drops the knife, disappearing into the hallway.
She must be a very sick woman.
You pick up the knife
There's a smear of blood on the tip of the knife, but it otherwise looks unremarkable. You don't believe it will protect you from the advances of the uncoordinated leg monsters, so you pocket the knife and stick with your trusty board.
Leaving the room, you can't see where Angela might have gone. You return to the stairs, hoping you've given the man with the red helmet time to go far, far away from the building, and head down.
On the main floor, there's little to do but ... leave.
Once you've done it, once you're standing outside the apartment, then outside the common grounds, it's hard to believe.
You are ready to leave.
Not Silent Hill, that possibility hasn't entered your mind.
But you can now put your ordeal in the apartment behind you and focus on finding your wife. Checking your map, you're fairly certain you can get to the park by the lake, if there aren't anymore potholes to hell blocking your way.
You head down the street.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice movement. You grip your board tightly and approach.
It's the little girl from the apartment building - you will never be rid of things that remind you of that special hell. The little girl doesn't apologize for kicking your hand and making your exploration of the decaying fire hazard more difficult. In fact, she taunts you, and accuses you of having never loved your wife in the first place.
You can't even begin to interrogate the little brat before she runs off, disappearing into the fog.
You try not to wonder if your grief and lack of will to live is being interpreted as the presentation of a man trapped in a loveless marriage or if the little girl actually knew your dead wife. You have a goal. You continue to the park.
A sense of increasing desperation builds up in you. If Mary isn't here, you don't know where she could be. You search the bushes and gazebos, twisting paths and crumbling statuary of the park without success.
Finally, you emerge from the fog and find the lake, an abandoned hotdog stand, and ... Mary?
Mary is standing by the lake, looking beautiful and healthy and alive and everything you've just went through seems worth it, and you aren't going to question this and when did Mary have a chance to get a haircut while she was dead, and why is she wearing such a short skirt and ...
The woman standing by the lake isn't your wife.
The woman smiles at you and introduces herself as Maria. You try to explain that you mistook her for your dead wife and she flirts with you, teases you about your relationship with your wife, suggests you loved her, suggests you hate her ... It's all very confusing and when Maria decides you need to accompany her for her protection, you can't form a coherent argument about why you'd rather not.
Maria suggests Mary isn't in somewhere in the park, but another special place in Silent Hill - the hotel on the lake, where she is very sure you and Mary made many happy memories.
You do protest this complete stranger implying things about your sex life with your dead wife, but you also decide she's right - Mary must be at the hotel.
Now you just have to get there.
You head down the street towards the hotel and are alarmed when, out of the darkness and fog, crumbled balls of legs appear to be thrown at you, shambling to one set of their feet and attacking. At this point, their appearance only seems slightly odd and unsettling, and Maria doesn't say a thing about them. You don't want to make the situation awkward by mentioning the flying balls of women's legs, so you keep your mouth shut, hit them with your board, and keep moving.
The direct path to the hotel is blocked off - road maintenance in this town is truly terrible. You and Maria are forced to look for a longer, circuitous route, which you don't immediately find.
What you find is a bowling alley, the door to which is miraculously unlocked. You open the door, but Maria stays outside. You understand - you aren't a fan of bowling either.
Inside you hear voices.
Eddie, the man from the apartments, has recovered enough that he's now eating pizza - where did he get the pizza? you should ask if you get the chance - and he's having a heart-to-heart with the little monster girl who claims to know Mary. When she sees you, the little girl runs off.
Her name is Laura, according to Eddie, and while he agrees that you should be concerned about a little girl, even a bratty one, running around the town by herself, he doesn't seem interested in going after her.
She knows something about Mary, though, or might, and you see no alternative but to follow her yourself.
You forget to ask Eddie about the pizza.