S.E.E.S.

“Numerous names of notorious figures from the past-flashed through Harry’s mind, their sinister images superimposed on his daughter. Those were the monsters that lurked in society, criminals that were preying on innocent children. What if Cheryl, a little girl alone and lost in an unfamiliar town, encountered one of them by pure chances?” (Silent Hill novelization)

I know it’s not the first (though I’m having trouble citing a precedent), but Silent Hill is a Sad Dad Game. Which is something that never really occurred to me until this playthrough. Of course, this dynamic is baked into the plot—it is the plot. But until now I never put Harry and Cheryl into the same category as a Joel and Ellie or Kratos and Atreus.

I last played through Silent Hill in the winter of 2013 in my first—and only—post-college apartment. I’m a dad now and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the father-searching-for-daughter perspective, played out and skin-deep though it may be, is having an effect on me. I can’t help but think of my daughter’s crayon-scribbled illustrations on the refrigerator door as I’m picking up messages left by Cheryl. I just never saw myself as a Harry Mason type. Oh, well. At least it’s not James.